For some perverse reason, I'm totally obsessed with articles about online dating. I don't want to online date, of course. I get why people do, or why they go in there with hearts overflowing with hope, but it's not for me. Still, I love reading articles about it because online dating is providing some interesting wisdom to how life really works.
For instance, this article from Gizmodo about how men respond to pictures of women and how the ratings of said pictures affect the level of attention the woman will receive. The analysis was done with Okcupid data from their rating systems and some of their clients (who agreed to allow themselves to be used as examples).
OkCupid has a 1-5 rating, which gets averaged for an overall ranking. So, typically, most people will have an average somewhere in the 3's. People with higher 3's were studied for the purposes of the article, as this is usually where most normal people will fall.
The thing is, as the study pointed out, there are two basic ways to get an average rating. You can achieve this by having many people mark you as a 3, with some 2 and 4 rankings. You can also get a ranking of three if a lot of people mark you very high (many 4 and 5 rankings) while at the same time, receiving many lower rankings (twos and ones).
Now, if you take two women with very close ranks, say 3.4 and 3.5, if 3.4 woman got there by a lot of polarized votes (many high ones, but also many low ones), she will average a lot more communication from men than will the woman who gained her rank with many people giving her average ratings.
In fact, the study found you were better off having men think you were ugly (so long as others thought you were hot) than you were if everyone just thought you were cute. The article theorized that women with more men finding them favorable, but not remarkable, were seen as having far more competition. Where the women who some found as beautiful but others (in some cases, many others) found as undesirable, were viewed as having less competition and therefore, a better risk.
So in the end, the article suggests that as much as it's a good idea to play up your good features, don't downplay your flaws. In fact, emphasize them as much as you do your best features.
If you have tatts (a turn off for many men), show them in the picture (within reason). If you have a big nose, photograph yourself from the angle that shows your nose in all of its glory. If you're fat, don't take a very close up picture like some Blackhaired Barbies do, back that camera up and show your girth. Will most people like it? NO! But you're not looking for most people, you're looking for the ones who will like YOU.
To be honest, I found this article to be refreshing. Of all the things that our culture seems to be trying to homogenize, female beauty is one of the most endangered. This article shows that people still aren't interested in cookie cutter people. Being common and reasonably pleasing may earn you a ranking of "average cute," but it isn't going to get you very far.
All of us have things that make us unique. As much as I harp on everyone not basking in how they are the special little snowflake, there are times when your special snowflakiness is very important. One of those times is when it comes to love, love from others and also love from yourself. So yes, bask in your flawed little crooked snowflake shape.
Chances are, someone else wants to bask with you.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Saturday, July 30, 2011
I Want MY MTV . . . Mine, Not the Crappy One Now
August 1 will make the 30th birthday of MTV. Like so many of today's 30 yr olds, MTV is a lesson in hope, promise, thrills, and failure.
When I was a kid, MTV was amazing. In those early years, it was my favorite thing. Hour upon hour of videos of pretty British boys with makeup and strange hair. Comments from the band members, interviews, and bumps with them. Even now, years later when I live in a state of almost pure jadedness, I can still remember the rush of my love for MTV.
Actually, I can't even call it a rush. Rush implies something that shows up and leaves. This was a constant high, a constant happiness. Even the bad videos fascinated my tween mind. I loved it all.
MTV kind of ruled the world at this point, or at least ruled popular culture (which is basically the same thing). Videos changed how we viewed music and changed what music because successful. A good video could launch bands that would have been ignored otherwise. Of course, this wasn't always a good thing. Right or wrong though, it was now THE WAY of things.
As I matured, so did MTV. It began to diversify, grouping music in genre blocks. This could be somewhat annoying, but it was also helpful once you knew how to avoid the blocks of stuff you didn't like. The station also branched out into cartoons . . . some of the most interesting and visually odd cartoons of the time. During my early college days, watching Aeon Flux and The Maxx filled me with the happies in the way videos did when I was younger.
Things were changing though. It seemed that video blocks were becoming shorter and even in some cases being put on at later hours. Regular shows were starting. Things like Making the Video and Cribs rarely held my interest, but I understood why they were on the station. It was still about music.
But at some point, the real world began to creep in and suck the music out of the MTV. And by "the real world," I mean The Real World. Instead of a show about music or musicians, suddenly we had a show about regular young adults who were all living in a house together.
I guess the pitch was something like, "let's look at the youth culture, the people who listen to music." At least, that's my pure theory on it. I doubt it was that nice. It was probably more like, "Okay, these shows cost too much money. How can we put on crap people will watch and spend next to nothing? Make sure there's titties!"
Once reality TV crept into MTV, there was no stopping it. The Real World lead to Road Rules, which was kind of the traveling trainwreck version of TRW. Even then, there could have been a saving grace. The characters who truly represented the edginess and provocative nature of a generation. They could have found people, real life people, who evoked the kind of mystery and wonder found in the earlier videos and cartoons. They could have kept it going and made something even greater.
Instead . . . we got titties and drama and drunken jackasses and idiots and kind of the lowest common denominator of youth culture. Sadly, the tweens who watched now, latched onto that. They grabbed for the lowest rung and demanded more.
Turn on MTV these days, and you'll get marathons of The Jersey Shore or Teen Mom. The station that once launched a thousands British bands now make stars of orange douche bags and turns Snooki into a best selling author. People watch videos online and lament the days of old when MTV was great. They find their wonder in three minutes on Youtube.....and then they walk away.
As for me, well, as you can tell, I'm pretty bitter about the whole thing. I told my roommate earlier tonight that when I was in fifth grade, there was nothing more horrible than being grounded from MTV. These days, watching MTV would be more of a punishment.
I hate that. I hate it for the kid who loved her music TV. I hate it for the college girl who sat in a dorm room with two of her best friends in total awe of the animation she was watching. Most of all, I hate it for me now. As an adult, when I could really use that feeling of total love and perpetual high, there really is no MTV to give it to me. And that sucks.
When I was a kid, MTV was amazing. In those early years, it was my favorite thing. Hour upon hour of videos of pretty British boys with makeup and strange hair. Comments from the band members, interviews, and bumps with them. Even now, years later when I live in a state of almost pure jadedness, I can still remember the rush of my love for MTV.
Actually, I can't even call it a rush. Rush implies something that shows up and leaves. This was a constant high, a constant happiness. Even the bad videos fascinated my tween mind. I loved it all.
MTV kind of ruled the world at this point, or at least ruled popular culture (which is basically the same thing). Videos changed how we viewed music and changed what music because successful. A good video could launch bands that would have been ignored otherwise. Of course, this wasn't always a good thing. Right or wrong though, it was now THE WAY of things.
As I matured, so did MTV. It began to diversify, grouping music in genre blocks. This could be somewhat annoying, but it was also helpful once you knew how to avoid the blocks of stuff you didn't like. The station also branched out into cartoons . . . some of the most interesting and visually odd cartoons of the time. During my early college days, watching Aeon Flux and The Maxx filled me with the happies in the way videos did when I was younger.
Things were changing though. It seemed that video blocks were becoming shorter and even in some cases being put on at later hours. Regular shows were starting. Things like Making the Video and Cribs rarely held my interest, but I understood why they were on the station. It was still about music.
But at some point, the real world began to creep in and suck the music out of the MTV. And by "the real world," I mean The Real World. Instead of a show about music or musicians, suddenly we had a show about regular young adults who were all living in a house together.
I guess the pitch was something like, "let's look at the youth culture, the people who listen to music." At least, that's my pure theory on it. I doubt it was that nice. It was probably more like, "Okay, these shows cost too much money. How can we put on crap people will watch and spend next to nothing? Make sure there's titties!"
Once reality TV crept into MTV, there was no stopping it. The Real World lead to Road Rules, which was kind of the traveling trainwreck version of TRW. Even then, there could have been a saving grace. The characters who truly represented the edginess and provocative nature of a generation. They could have found people, real life people, who evoked the kind of mystery and wonder found in the earlier videos and cartoons. They could have kept it going and made something even greater.
Instead . . . we got titties and drama and drunken jackasses and idiots and kind of the lowest common denominator of youth culture. Sadly, the tweens who watched now, latched onto that. They grabbed for the lowest rung and demanded more.
Turn on MTV these days, and you'll get marathons of The Jersey Shore or Teen Mom. The station that once launched a thousands British bands now make stars of orange douche bags and turns Snooki into a best selling author. People watch videos online and lament the days of old when MTV was great. They find their wonder in three minutes on Youtube.....and then they walk away.
As for me, well, as you can tell, I'm pretty bitter about the whole thing. I told my roommate earlier tonight that when I was in fifth grade, there was nothing more horrible than being grounded from MTV. These days, watching MTV would be more of a punishment.
I hate that. I hate it for the kid who loved her music TV. I hate it for the college girl who sat in a dorm room with two of her best friends in total awe of the animation she was watching. Most of all, I hate it for me now. As an adult, when I could really use that feeling of total love and perpetual high, there really is no MTV to give it to me. And that sucks.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Political Musings
There is some damned grasshopper in the house. The cats are going crazy because of this. They keep staring at it, making horrible noises, and managing not to catch it. It would be cute if it wasn't so loud and destructive . . . kind of like the government.
I'm so over this whole budget/debt ceiling thing. Is the debt ceiling scary and horrible? Sounds that way, but it's also the way we've been functioning for a long time now. Just raise the damned thing and move on!
The government annoys me. I think we should rethink the way we treat Congress. Build them a dormitory. Two people to a room, one common bathroom per floor, cafeteria and rec room on the first floor. This is all paid for by the government and beyond that, they get minimum wage. I think we'd see a new caliber of people signing up to represent us if this happened.
Oh, and they have to clear their room and board with DHS. I think everyone in Congress should have to go through the welfare experience. Their clothes should be bought at consignment shops, their hair done at beauty colleges, and all supplies bought at Walmart. That way they can see what it's like for the rest of the people out there.
As for healthcare, they can go to the free clinics. Oh, I guess they can get Medicaid for their term. That's generous! They can see how well Medicaid treats people, and, even better, they can see how well you get treated when the medical establishment finds out you're on Medicaid. I'm sure it will be quite enlightening the first time Senator Smiley McCheeseface gets booted out of a doctor's office because they don't accept Medicaid patients.
When it's time for reelection, assuming they want to run again, they are allotted only a small amount of money. There are plenty of places to get the word out for free, like Facebook, and honestly, if you can't manage your campaign funds, I have serious misgivings about your ability to run the country.
Think this sounds harsh? Eh, it isn't really. It would teach them to be humble, to understand being poor, and how to relate to other Americans. It would be good for them and good for us all.
And really, this is far less intense than my last plan for them. I used to believe we should wire electrodes to them that go off whenever they deceive others. I will admit, shocking them every time they lie? THAT would be harsh.
As much as they all lie, it would probably cause a brownout.
I'm so over this whole budget/debt ceiling thing. Is the debt ceiling scary and horrible? Sounds that way, but it's also the way we've been functioning for a long time now. Just raise the damned thing and move on!
The government annoys me. I think we should rethink the way we treat Congress. Build them a dormitory. Two people to a room, one common bathroom per floor, cafeteria and rec room on the first floor. This is all paid for by the government and beyond that, they get minimum wage. I think we'd see a new caliber of people signing up to represent us if this happened.
Oh, and they have to clear their room and board with DHS. I think everyone in Congress should have to go through the welfare experience. Their clothes should be bought at consignment shops, their hair done at beauty colleges, and all supplies bought at Walmart. That way they can see what it's like for the rest of the people out there.
As for healthcare, they can go to the free clinics. Oh, I guess they can get Medicaid for their term. That's generous! They can see how well Medicaid treats people, and, even better, they can see how well you get treated when the medical establishment finds out you're on Medicaid. I'm sure it will be quite enlightening the first time Senator Smiley McCheeseface gets booted out of a doctor's office because they don't accept Medicaid patients.
When it's time for reelection, assuming they want to run again, they are allotted only a small amount of money. There are plenty of places to get the word out for free, like Facebook, and honestly, if you can't manage your campaign funds, I have serious misgivings about your ability to run the country.
Think this sounds harsh? Eh, it isn't really. It would teach them to be humble, to understand being poor, and how to relate to other Americans. It would be good for them and good for us all.
And really, this is far less intense than my last plan for them. I used to believe we should wire electrodes to them that go off whenever they deceive others. I will admit, shocking them every time they lie? THAT would be harsh.
As much as they all lie, it would probably cause a brownout.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
The Mind Twitchies
I tried to make the best of today, but I'm not sure how successful I was. Things started out okay, but then went to shit before noon. It wasn't anyone's fault, really, just a bunch of stuff hitting at once plus continued anxiety issues. I'm still having a lot of trouble forcing myself to talk to people.
Of I'm also having bouts of paranoia. STUPID paranoia. The kink where you basically have to make yourself go through with the action, knowing, rationally, everything will be okay. Oddly, you somewhat don't even believe it when it happens.
If you've never experienced paranoia first hand, this is basically how it works. Imagine the simple act of driving some place and parking the car. As you get out, you check to make sure you have your keys because you don't want to lock them in the car . . . .
Suddenly, part of your mind takes that train of thought hostage and begins to run with it. The simple, if annoying, act of locking your keys in your car is now A VERY BIG HORRIBLE THING. Your mind races with everything that would follow, but in the worst possible light. You call someone to help. And they get really angry and scream. And then they can't get to you because the other car won't start. And now things are worse. And it's going to cost money you don't have, and you'll go broke and starve!
All the while, the rational part of your mind is trying to calm you down, talk about how this is just paranoia, how it's okay. You can make mistakes without it becoming major drama. Everyone makes mistakes. It's perfectly okay.
Eventually, hopefully, you calm yourself down enough to get out of the car. However, even calm, you find yourself looking at your keys every few minutes, just to make sure they're still there.
If you don't calm yourself down, you usually tizzy yourself into a fullscale panic attack. Trust me, you don't want to do that.
Sometimes the only way to combat the rising panic and paranoia is to do what I call the Full Emotional Lockdown. Basically, you just force yourself not to feel anything and not to respond. You move through the moment somewhat distanced from what is happening around you, trying to feel as little of it as possible.
Is this the most healthy way to handle it? Probably not. However, learning to cope with paranoia and panic takes time and practice. Until you master the process, shutting down may be your best option.
Of I'm also having bouts of paranoia. STUPID paranoia. The kink where you basically have to make yourself go through with the action, knowing, rationally, everything will be okay. Oddly, you somewhat don't even believe it when it happens.
If you've never experienced paranoia first hand, this is basically how it works. Imagine the simple act of driving some place and parking the car. As you get out, you check to make sure you have your keys because you don't want to lock them in the car . . . .
Suddenly, part of your mind takes that train of thought hostage and begins to run with it. The simple, if annoying, act of locking your keys in your car is now A VERY BIG HORRIBLE THING. Your mind races with everything that would follow, but in the worst possible light. You call someone to help. And they get really angry and scream. And then they can't get to you because the other car won't start. And now things are worse. And it's going to cost money you don't have, and you'll go broke and starve!
All the while, the rational part of your mind is trying to calm you down, talk about how this is just paranoia, how it's okay. You can make mistakes without it becoming major drama. Everyone makes mistakes. It's perfectly okay.
Eventually, hopefully, you calm yourself down enough to get out of the car. However, even calm, you find yourself looking at your keys every few minutes, just to make sure they're still there.
If you don't calm yourself down, you usually tizzy yourself into a fullscale panic attack. Trust me, you don't want to do that.
Sometimes the only way to combat the rising panic and paranoia is to do what I call the Full Emotional Lockdown. Basically, you just force yourself not to feel anything and not to respond. You move through the moment somewhat distanced from what is happening around you, trying to feel as little of it as possible.
Is this the most healthy way to handle it? Probably not. However, learning to cope with paranoia and panic takes time and practice. Until you master the process, shutting down may be your best option.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
The Devil and my Headphones
I'm in a rather good mood. I mean, it's like two in the morning and still 80 something degrees, and I suspect that M. Night Shyamalan destroyed my headphones, but other than that, I'm in a good mood.
I'm not kidding about the headphones either. They were working perfectly well before I started watching The Devil, now the right one won't work. Normally when I finish one of Shyamalan's movies, I feel like he owes me hours of my life back. This movie didn't bother me though, so mostly I just think he owes me new headphones.
I know he wasn't completely responsible for the film, but it still had a lot of his bag of tricks to it, including the pseudo religious moral and TWIST!!!!!!! towards the end. Both of these things are usually annoying as hell.
However, in this case, the twist, while somewhat predictable, was part of the natural flow of the story. It was needed. As for the pseudo religious moral . . . well, the movie was about the Devil, so what do you expect?
Also, the moral in this case isn't hokey. It's about forgiveness and the need both to forgive others and to be forgiven. There is the point where the devil tells one of the characters that he can never be forgiven for what he did. The look in the man's eyes are of total hopelessness. You actually really feel the moment.
You know, in life, it's almost like we're handed these two buckets as children. We're told we have to carry the buckets around with us until we die. In one bucket, we carry around all the damage and hurt done to us by others. The second bucket contains all the crappy things we've done.
Forgiveness is so powerful and so healing because we do, literally, feel lighter when it happens. When we can extend forgiveness to someone else, it eases us at this deep level. And I can tell you from personal experience that when someone forgives you for something, you feel like you've been washed in a pure stream. You feel humbled.
I think it's important to keep both metaphorical buckets as light as possible, if nothing else for the sake of balance. If you forgive others but keep punishing yourself, you'll be lopsided. The same can be said for people who let go of their own crimes but hold onto every slight anyone has ever committed against them. You lose perspective. Eventually, you just stumble around.
For those of you who are religious, I'm sure you can see how your beliefs place their own spin on this. Apply that all you wish. At the same time, I think that forgiving others and allowing yourself to be forgiven is something that everyone should do, regardless of belief.
Is this easy? I would suppose for some people, who are rather patient and generous, it's very easy. For the rest of us, yeah, it's a lot more difficult. However, in the same way that you don't want to find yourself being a physical hoarder, being an emotional hoarder can be just as crippling, damaging, and painful.
A while back, I had the opportunity to ask someone to forgive me, someone I had hurt a long time ago. And not just because I wanted to hear her say she forgave me. I honestly didn't know if she would or not. However, I knew I owed her an apology. She deserved it and I really truly was sorry for the situation. Amazingly, she did forgive me and it was one of the best feelings of my life. It really changed how I looked at the concept of forgiveness.
Oh, so given all of that, I guess I should forgive M. Night Shyamalan for destroying my headphones.
I'm not kidding about the headphones either. They were working perfectly well before I started watching The Devil, now the right one won't work. Normally when I finish one of Shyamalan's movies, I feel like he owes me hours of my life back. This movie didn't bother me though, so mostly I just think he owes me new headphones.
I know he wasn't completely responsible for the film, but it still had a lot of his bag of tricks to it, including the pseudo religious moral and TWIST!!!!!!! towards the end. Both of these things are usually annoying as hell.
However, in this case, the twist, while somewhat predictable, was part of the natural flow of the story. It was needed. As for the pseudo religious moral . . . well, the movie was about the Devil, so what do you expect?
Also, the moral in this case isn't hokey. It's about forgiveness and the need both to forgive others and to be forgiven. There is the point where the devil tells one of the characters that he can never be forgiven for what he did. The look in the man's eyes are of total hopelessness. You actually really feel the moment.
You know, in life, it's almost like we're handed these two buckets as children. We're told we have to carry the buckets around with us until we die. In one bucket, we carry around all the damage and hurt done to us by others. The second bucket contains all the crappy things we've done.
Forgiveness is so powerful and so healing because we do, literally, feel lighter when it happens. When we can extend forgiveness to someone else, it eases us at this deep level. And I can tell you from personal experience that when someone forgives you for something, you feel like you've been washed in a pure stream. You feel humbled.
I think it's important to keep both metaphorical buckets as light as possible, if nothing else for the sake of balance. If you forgive others but keep punishing yourself, you'll be lopsided. The same can be said for people who let go of their own crimes but hold onto every slight anyone has ever committed against them. You lose perspective. Eventually, you just stumble around.
For those of you who are religious, I'm sure you can see how your beliefs place their own spin on this. Apply that all you wish. At the same time, I think that forgiving others and allowing yourself to be forgiven is something that everyone should do, regardless of belief.
Is this easy? I would suppose for some people, who are rather patient and generous, it's very easy. For the rest of us, yeah, it's a lot more difficult. However, in the same way that you don't want to find yourself being a physical hoarder, being an emotional hoarder can be just as crippling, damaging, and painful.
A while back, I had the opportunity to ask someone to forgive me, someone I had hurt a long time ago. And not just because I wanted to hear her say she forgave me. I honestly didn't know if she would or not. However, I knew I owed her an apology. She deserved it and I really truly was sorry for the situation. Amazingly, she did forgive me and it was one of the best feelings of my life. It really changed how I looked at the concept of forgiveness.
Oh, so given all of that, I guess I should forgive M. Night Shyamalan for destroying my headphones.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Use Until Dead
Did I mention I had to replace my keyboard? The old one was suffering from overuse. The print had worn off of many of the keys and my Control keys were shot. I like the new keyboard. It's spiffy as fuck! Actually, I think it's just the generic keyboard that came with one of the computers, but it's new and springy, and that's quite nice for a change.
I'm not a hoarder, I worry about this sometimes, but I know I'm not. However, my roommate and I, being poor people raised by grandparents who lived during the Depression, so have some habits that help us out during times like keyboard breakage.
You see, whenever we replace a computer, we only replace what is actually broken. So if the new computer comes with cables, keyboard, mouse, speakers, or whatever, they get put into storage (in labeled and organized boxes!) and kept until they are needed. Instead of using the new parts, we continue to use whatever old parts we had with the last computer and do so until, well, you get the idea.
How does this help us? Well, it means that whenever something breaks, we tend to have a replacement for it. For instance, when the cat killed the mouse I'd had for ages, there was a replacement mouse for me within minutes. It's comforting to know that when something does fall apart, there's no drama about its replacement.
Every few years, we go through the boxes and remove anything that is so outdated it serves no purpose. Usually there is someone who can use it. A lot of people function on very old equipment. This keeps the level of storage to a manageable size. And as I said before, it is always best to organize and label replacement items. This saves time and prevents agitation.
I realize this approach isn't practical for everyone. Some people absolutely cannot stand extra clutter, even if it's useful. Other people don't have the room. There is also a level of practical discipline you have to practice with this. If you are prone to hoarding, saving in this way could be dangerous. Being able to rid yourself of stuff once its outlived its purpose is key to making this work. If you can't do that, best to avoid.
However, if you have ample room, tend to organize things, and especially if it isn't easy or convenient for you to replace items, extending the life of computer parts (or medical equipment or cleaning equipment or what have you) could really help you out.
I'm not a hoarder, I worry about this sometimes, but I know I'm not. However, my roommate and I, being poor people raised by grandparents who lived during the Depression, so have some habits that help us out during times like keyboard breakage.
You see, whenever we replace a computer, we only replace what is actually broken. So if the new computer comes with cables, keyboard, mouse, speakers, or whatever, they get put into storage (in labeled and organized boxes!) and kept until they are needed. Instead of using the new parts, we continue to use whatever old parts we had with the last computer and do so until, well, you get the idea.
How does this help us? Well, it means that whenever something breaks, we tend to have a replacement for it. For instance, when the cat killed the mouse I'd had for ages, there was a replacement mouse for me within minutes. It's comforting to know that when something does fall apart, there's no drama about its replacement.
Every few years, we go through the boxes and remove anything that is so outdated it serves no purpose. Usually there is someone who can use it. A lot of people function on very old equipment. This keeps the level of storage to a manageable size. And as I said before, it is always best to organize and label replacement items. This saves time and prevents agitation.
I realize this approach isn't practical for everyone. Some people absolutely cannot stand extra clutter, even if it's useful. Other people don't have the room. There is also a level of practical discipline you have to practice with this. If you are prone to hoarding, saving in this way could be dangerous. Being able to rid yourself of stuff once its outlived its purpose is key to making this work. If you can't do that, best to avoid.
However, if you have ample room, tend to organize things, and especially if it isn't easy or convenient for you to replace items, extending the life of computer parts (or medical equipment or cleaning equipment or what have you) could really help you out.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Birthdays, Death, and Darkness
Saturday was my Mom's birthday. She would have been 57. Wow, that really seems young, doesn't it? She never thought she would make it past 40. I think all of my life she talked about that. She was really shocked when she did make it to 40. Hell, she even made it 14 years past it.
Though, I have to wonder if those 14 years past it were worth it to her. With the exception of my nephew being born, most of her life past 40 was filled with conflict and strife and disappointments. There was a lot of hard, hard work. There was a lot of fear. She bought herself more years, but not a lot more quality of life. That's really sad.
Amy Winehouse died today. A lot of people are talking about what a tragedy it is, but I see it as a mercy. Amy died at 27. Her life was a tortured mess. People keep talking about how things would have been better if she got sober. I'm not sure they would have. Whatever troubles drove her to substance abuse were probably deep and very hurtful. And if she got clean, then what? Her reputation was destroyed. She'd messed up so much stuff.
All of the sudden she'd wake up to sobriety and find her whole world was in a mess and she had to clean it up. And she wouldn't be able to do so and still self-medicate. This would be torture. So, rest well, Amy. I hope you find peace.
I also hope the families and friends who lost people in Norway this week find some level of peace and comfort. I know it won't be easy. What happened was beyond words. As for the dude who did this, fuck you. Most of the time I'll just limit it to crazy, angry people shouldn't get to have relationships. For you, I'll go so far as to say crazy angry people shouldn't be allowed anywhere near others.
What a black mood I am in! I guess it can't be helped tonight. It just can't be helped.
I'll leave you with a question though. If Death came to you back a decade ago and showed you where you would be now, would you have let yourself live or just opted out and left with Death?
Though, I have to wonder if those 14 years past it were worth it to her. With the exception of my nephew being born, most of her life past 40 was filled with conflict and strife and disappointments. There was a lot of hard, hard work. There was a lot of fear. She bought herself more years, but not a lot more quality of life. That's really sad.
Amy Winehouse died today. A lot of people are talking about what a tragedy it is, but I see it as a mercy. Amy died at 27. Her life was a tortured mess. People keep talking about how things would have been better if she got sober. I'm not sure they would have. Whatever troubles drove her to substance abuse were probably deep and very hurtful. And if she got clean, then what? Her reputation was destroyed. She'd messed up so much stuff.
All of the sudden she'd wake up to sobriety and find her whole world was in a mess and she had to clean it up. And she wouldn't be able to do so and still self-medicate. This would be torture. So, rest well, Amy. I hope you find peace.
I also hope the families and friends who lost people in Norway this week find some level of peace and comfort. I know it won't be easy. What happened was beyond words. As for the dude who did this, fuck you. Most of the time I'll just limit it to crazy, angry people shouldn't get to have relationships. For you, I'll go so far as to say crazy angry people shouldn't be allowed anywhere near others.
What a black mood I am in! I guess it can't be helped tonight. It just can't be helped.
I'll leave you with a question though. If Death came to you back a decade ago and showed you where you would be now, would you have let yourself live or just opted out and left with Death?
Friday, July 22, 2011
I See Empire Down
Did I do anything productive today? I drove my roommate to the store and organized my favorites on Chrome. I cooked myself dinner and cleaned out the catbox. Other than that, no. Not one damned thing. Then again, it got up to 105, so I suppose even doing what I did was an accomplishment. Wait, I cleaned the AC. No, actually, that was yesterday.
By the way, if you've never cleaned on your AC, do so. You'll find that it has its own special kind of wet and horrible dustbunnies. You'll also find that after it's been cleaned, it works a lot better.
Anyway, it's Friday and normally I have a list of stuff. Today, however, I'm just going to talk about something that has come to disappoint me, bitterly, in the system around me. I'm not talking about something I always disliked, this is something I used to adore. That adoration is gone.
One of my earliest memories is going to the movies. I loved everything about this. I loved the rich colors of the curtains and seats. I loved the smell of the popcorn, the feel of excitement as you sit through previews and wait for your movie to start. I love that moment when the lights dim and the magic begins to happen.
For the most part, going to the movies used to be cheap and easy entertainment. My roommate and I used to see at least three movies a week, sometimes more. Sometimes, a couple on the same day. Then it was maybe one a week. Then one a month . . . now, we're lucky if we see a movie a year.
Why? Well, part of it has to do with the deeply shitty selection of movies out there. Summertime used to produce great movie after great movie. The winter months would give you horror films or really great holiday films. Then you'd get all your Oscar whoring movies at the first of the years. Now? Meh! You maybe get one or two good movies out of the slew of crapfest.
However, the biggest factor for us and for a lot of people is that it's just become too expensive. While our small town does have a theater, it's tiny and usually not showing stuff we want to see. In order to have a reasonable selection, we have to drive about 40 miles away. When gas was setting at less than two bucks, this was nothing. That was a long time ago.
Beyond the gas, matinee tickets used to range between 4 and 5 dollars. You could get a combo special of unlimited popcorn and two drinks for under ten. So, for less than $20.00, we had movie, food, and fun.
Now, matinee prices have gone up at least two dollars. If the movie is in 3D, and most of them are, that is another dollar, if not more. Forget the cheap combo. Drinks are usually five bucks a piece, with only one refill, and popcorn is at least five. When you factor in the gas, the "cheap trip" to the movies suddenly becomes a major expense.
Even if the movies being put out right now were stellar works of art that will forever alter the way I view the world around me, I, as a poor person, simply can not justify spending that much money to see a movie when I could wait and watch it on Netflix.
As I write this, I can't help but think about the stories my grandmother used to tell me about the Depression. She and my grandfather and their various friends were deeply poor as teenagers. They would do stuff like have boiled egg parties! And that isn't some euphemism. They would literally all bring over chicken eggs, boil them, and eat them. As a party. Yeah, they were that poor.
They would still go to the movies though. Every week, they'd pile into cars and drive to the same town I spoke of before. They'd spend the day watching movies, then go somewhere to eat, drive home, and be happy. They did this during the Depression. A lot of people, during the Depression, did this. Watching movies was an escape for them. Sometimes, it was their only escape from the crushing poverty and freaky uncertainty around them.
Because of this escape, Hollywood was able to build itself into a major thing. It was able to take this media of movies and build an empire, alter our culture, alter the world.
And here we are, almost a century later, caught in another very bad time for people financially. During these days, people need cheep escapes. People need something to dream about, to be inspired by, and to enjoy. If the movie industry was smart, they would find a way to make movies more accessible again. They would find ways to draw in the crowds.
They would start making wonderful movies again. Not just one or two a season, but dozens. Movies where people would have many to see during the week. They would realize they have to sacrifice some money now in order to make a lot of money later and lower prices. Sure, they couldn't do anything about the concessions or gas prices, but they could find ways to lower the ticket costs (I assume). If they did this, they could restore the empire.
Will they? No, probably not. And thusly, it will all crumble around them. And they'll blame barbarians . . . well, okay, in this case, pirates.
By the way, if you've never cleaned on your AC, do so. You'll find that it has its own special kind of wet and horrible dustbunnies. You'll also find that after it's been cleaned, it works a lot better.
Anyway, it's Friday and normally I have a list of stuff. Today, however, I'm just going to talk about something that has come to disappoint me, bitterly, in the system around me. I'm not talking about something I always disliked, this is something I used to adore. That adoration is gone.
One of my earliest memories is going to the movies. I loved everything about this. I loved the rich colors of the curtains and seats. I loved the smell of the popcorn, the feel of excitement as you sit through previews and wait for your movie to start. I love that moment when the lights dim and the magic begins to happen.
For the most part, going to the movies used to be cheap and easy entertainment. My roommate and I used to see at least three movies a week, sometimes more. Sometimes, a couple on the same day. Then it was maybe one a week. Then one a month . . . now, we're lucky if we see a movie a year.
Why? Well, part of it has to do with the deeply shitty selection of movies out there. Summertime used to produce great movie after great movie. The winter months would give you horror films or really great holiday films. Then you'd get all your Oscar whoring movies at the first of the years. Now? Meh! You maybe get one or two good movies out of the slew of crapfest.
However, the biggest factor for us and for a lot of people is that it's just become too expensive. While our small town does have a theater, it's tiny and usually not showing stuff we want to see. In order to have a reasonable selection, we have to drive about 40 miles away. When gas was setting at less than two bucks, this was nothing. That was a long time ago.
Beyond the gas, matinee tickets used to range between 4 and 5 dollars. You could get a combo special of unlimited popcorn and two drinks for under ten. So, for less than $20.00, we had movie, food, and fun.
Now, matinee prices have gone up at least two dollars. If the movie is in 3D, and most of them are, that is another dollar, if not more. Forget the cheap combo. Drinks are usually five bucks a piece, with only one refill, and popcorn is at least five. When you factor in the gas, the "cheap trip" to the movies suddenly becomes a major expense.
Even if the movies being put out right now were stellar works of art that will forever alter the way I view the world around me, I, as a poor person, simply can not justify spending that much money to see a movie when I could wait and watch it on Netflix.
As I write this, I can't help but think about the stories my grandmother used to tell me about the Depression. She and my grandfather and their various friends were deeply poor as teenagers. They would do stuff like have boiled egg parties! And that isn't some euphemism. They would literally all bring over chicken eggs, boil them, and eat them. As a party. Yeah, they were that poor.
They would still go to the movies though. Every week, they'd pile into cars and drive to the same town I spoke of before. They'd spend the day watching movies, then go somewhere to eat, drive home, and be happy. They did this during the Depression. A lot of people, during the Depression, did this. Watching movies was an escape for them. Sometimes, it was their only escape from the crushing poverty and freaky uncertainty around them.
Because of this escape, Hollywood was able to build itself into a major thing. It was able to take this media of movies and build an empire, alter our culture, alter the world.
And here we are, almost a century later, caught in another very bad time for people financially. During these days, people need cheep escapes. People need something to dream about, to be inspired by, and to enjoy. If the movie industry was smart, they would find a way to make movies more accessible again. They would find ways to draw in the crowds.
They would start making wonderful movies again. Not just one or two a season, but dozens. Movies where people would have many to see during the week. They would realize they have to sacrifice some money now in order to make a lot of money later and lower prices. Sure, they couldn't do anything about the concessions or gas prices, but they could find ways to lower the ticket costs (I assume). If they did this, they could restore the empire.
Will they? No, probably not. And thusly, it will all crumble around them. And they'll blame barbarians . . . well, okay, in this case, pirates.
Wisdom from the Swing Sets
When I was in like, 4th grade, I was deeply obsessed with a band. They ruled my little black heart and my thoughts and everything else. By "everything else," I mean my room was covered in pictures of them, I sang their songs to myself all the time, I lived for the moments when MTV would show their videos. I even insisted that people call me by the name of one of their songs. Yes, it was that bad.
This other girl and I would sit on the swings at school and talk about the band. We'd discuss how hot they were, facts about their lives (yes, all gleaned from Tiger Beat), and talk about how hot they were. I know I repeated that last bit, but honestly, the music factored very little into it. What can I say? I got boobs, my period, and became obsessed with musicians. Thus is the trifecta of becoming a woman.
Anyway, we did this all first semester. During Winter Break, we called each other, excitedly discussing what music we received as gifts, celebrating most when it was music from our band. Spring semester rolled around and we spent many happy hours talking about their new videos and how much the tour was changing them. The tour thing was a big concern. It was the 80s, after all.
Then one day, she wasn't saying much. Actually, she may not have been saying much for several days, but in my zealot state of blooming groupielust, I possibly just kept on babbling and didn't notice for a while. Whatever the case, and some point, I realized I'd been speaking almost exclusively for a while and asked her if something was wrong.
"No," she replied, as she shifted nervously on her swing. "It's just that, well, like all we talk about is this band. Like we never talk about anything else. I'm tired of them."
Now, had I possessed any small bits of maturity, I might have realized that I was being obsessive and needed to cultivate a more fleshed out relationship with this girl. However, I just saw this as a total betrayal of me and all I stood for. So naturally, I yelled at her. She then declared me "dirty minded" and vowed never to speak to me again.
Which, okay, I don't know what dirty minded had to do with anything. And if she thought I was dirty minded back them, she'd be horrified by the thoughts I have now. Dirty minded indeed!
Still, as an adult looking back on the situation, I can see I was wrong to handle it the way I did. She wasn't interested in talking about the band all the damned time and I was being overbearing about it and boring . . . and also, it seems, dirty minded. I probably could have just backed off on the band talk, limiting it to maybe a normal level of conversation, and we could have remained friends until my crazy mother moved us again.
Instead, I walked away from the friendship without much of a thought because I had my band to obsess about and she walked away, I would assume, relieved that she no longer had to hear me talking all the damned time.
You know, the fun thing about stories from your past where you realize you were the one being the total jackass, is that it affords you a very rare moment to find some clarity. In life, we meet a lot of people and form friendships for many, many different reasons.
Except that, most of the time, we don't really form friendships. We form alliances or mutual interest circles or, well, victims. However, if we're really interested in the friendship bit, whenever we hit communication snags, we have a chance to evaluate what is most important to us. Is it talking about the subject, gaining pleasure from this other person, or is it developing some kind of lasting bond with this person.
Sometimes, it is one of the first two, and if you're both cool with that, it's perfectly acceptable. On more rare occasions, we find someone who we really want to bond with. In those instances, we need to figure out something to talk about other than the band. Oh, and apparently, it helps if you do it in a way that isn't dirty minded.
Unless you're entertained by that kind of thing.
This other girl and I would sit on the swings at school and talk about the band. We'd discuss how hot they were, facts about their lives (yes, all gleaned from Tiger Beat), and talk about how hot they were. I know I repeated that last bit, but honestly, the music factored very little into it. What can I say? I got boobs, my period, and became obsessed with musicians. Thus is the trifecta of becoming a woman.
Anyway, we did this all first semester. During Winter Break, we called each other, excitedly discussing what music we received as gifts, celebrating most when it was music from our band. Spring semester rolled around and we spent many happy hours talking about their new videos and how much the tour was changing them. The tour thing was a big concern. It was the 80s, after all.
Then one day, she wasn't saying much. Actually, she may not have been saying much for several days, but in my zealot state of blooming groupielust, I possibly just kept on babbling and didn't notice for a while. Whatever the case, and some point, I realized I'd been speaking almost exclusively for a while and asked her if something was wrong.
"No," she replied, as she shifted nervously on her swing. "It's just that, well, like all we talk about is this band. Like we never talk about anything else. I'm tired of them."
Now, had I possessed any small bits of maturity, I might have realized that I was being obsessive and needed to cultivate a more fleshed out relationship with this girl. However, I just saw this as a total betrayal of me and all I stood for. So naturally, I yelled at her. She then declared me "dirty minded" and vowed never to speak to me again.
Which, okay, I don't know what dirty minded had to do with anything. And if she thought I was dirty minded back them, she'd be horrified by the thoughts I have now. Dirty minded indeed!
Still, as an adult looking back on the situation, I can see I was wrong to handle it the way I did. She wasn't interested in talking about the band all the damned time and I was being overbearing about it and boring . . . and also, it seems, dirty minded. I probably could have just backed off on the band talk, limiting it to maybe a normal level of conversation, and we could have remained friends until my crazy mother moved us again.
Instead, I walked away from the friendship without much of a thought because I had my band to obsess about and she walked away, I would assume, relieved that she no longer had to hear me talking all the damned time.
You know, the fun thing about stories from your past where you realize you were the one being the total jackass, is that it affords you a very rare moment to find some clarity. In life, we meet a lot of people and form friendships for many, many different reasons.
Except that, most of the time, we don't really form friendships. We form alliances or mutual interest circles or, well, victims. However, if we're really interested in the friendship bit, whenever we hit communication snags, we have a chance to evaluate what is most important to us. Is it talking about the subject, gaining pleasure from this other person, or is it developing some kind of lasting bond with this person.
Sometimes, it is one of the first two, and if you're both cool with that, it's perfectly acceptable. On more rare occasions, we find someone who we really want to bond with. In those instances, we need to figure out something to talk about other than the band. Oh, and apparently, it helps if you do it in a way that isn't dirty minded.
Unless you're entertained by that kind of thing.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Bubble Gum and Rainbow Fluff
I've been in this weirdly perky happy mood all day. This is strange because I was also hot, anxiety-ridden, and restless. That's the fun thing about humans though, we can be this whole myriad of shit all at once.
This is one of the reasons why I've never bought the whole idea of concrete certainties about human behavior. Honestly, that seems to go against the point for us. Our ability to adapt is our greatest asset. Being too rigid in thought prevents true adaptability.
I had to venture out into the heat three times today. Once for therapy, later to take out my part of the trash, and finally because we wanted to eat something besides the stuff in the house. So the last one was by choice and also, by far, the most miserable. Totally worth it though.
And now I'm off to bed, still in a good mood. May tomorrow be rainbow fluffy as well, for all of us.
This is one of the reasons why I've never bought the whole idea of concrete certainties about human behavior. Honestly, that seems to go against the point for us. Our ability to adapt is our greatest asset. Being too rigid in thought prevents true adaptability.
I had to venture out into the heat three times today. Once for therapy, later to take out my part of the trash, and finally because we wanted to eat something besides the stuff in the house. So the last one was by choice and also, by far, the most miserable. Totally worth it though.
And now I'm off to bed, still in a good mood. May tomorrow be rainbow fluffy as well, for all of us.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
In Which Simple Tasks become Festering Shitholes
Somehow I managed not to blog last night. I'm not sure how that happened. I wanted to blog, but ended up just listening to music and then not sleeping well. It's hot and my mind is in dark places so sleep is alluding me. It does that sometimes.
I'm not sure if it's the Mom Thing or what, but my anxiety is on full swing lately. I keep having heebegeebies and itches. Several times today, I've had to talk myself out of panic fits, basically over nothing. I managed to stay rational, but it wasn't easy. I'm glad therapy has taught me some basic ways to handle this stuff.
I'm also in a mental/emotional quagmire. There is an item, a rather simple item that broke. I asked my roommate to pick up another one, thinking this would be no big deal. However, the item in question is something no longer carried by the ONLY STORE in town that used to carry it. So now obtaining said item is going to require either a trip to the larger town 20 miles away or the internet.
No matter which way we go, suddenly the simple replacement of this item has become A THING. It's no longer easy and it's really no longer inexpensive because either gas money will be spent or there will be shipping charges. Fucking hell, I'm so pissed off at the local store over this. I'm not even sure if it's worth it now.
Anyway, I think I'm getting tired now so I'm going to try and sleep. Hopefully tomorrow will be less anxiety-driven and more inspiring.
I'm not sure if it's the Mom Thing or what, but my anxiety is on full swing lately. I keep having heebegeebies and itches. Several times today, I've had to talk myself out of panic fits, basically over nothing. I managed to stay rational, but it wasn't easy. I'm glad therapy has taught me some basic ways to handle this stuff.
I'm also in a mental/emotional quagmire. There is an item, a rather simple item that broke. I asked my roommate to pick up another one, thinking this would be no big deal. However, the item in question is something no longer carried by the ONLY STORE in town that used to carry it. So now obtaining said item is going to require either a trip to the larger town 20 miles away or the internet.
No matter which way we go, suddenly the simple replacement of this item has become A THING. It's no longer easy and it's really no longer inexpensive because either gas money will be spent or there will be shipping charges. Fucking hell, I'm so pissed off at the local store over this. I'm not even sure if it's worth it now.
Anyway, I think I'm getting tired now so I'm going to try and sleep. Hopefully tomorrow will be less anxiety-driven and more inspiring.
Monday, July 18, 2011
White Gold and Pearls Stolen from the Sea
This is the week leading to my mom's birthday, so there may be a few posts about her. Maybe not directly about her, but about the aspects of my life that I tie to her. Moms are complicated. My mom was mad and selfish and disappointing and fucked up. But she was also brilliant and charming and fun. A lot of who I am, the good and the bad, comes from her influences.
So when I was 18 and living in Tahlequah, my mom moved up there for a bit. This wasn't the best of all times for her in terms of stability, but she was, as she always was, magic and electricity, and fire.
She came with her VHS copy of Rattle and Hum and we would watch it over and over and over again. Not just watch it, mind you, but sing as well. She would always, in drunken dramatics, announce what the song meant to her, and why. It wasn't enough that the song existed on its own. It was part of her now, part of her soul and part of all that made up her universe.
Songs can be the fabric of us. There are moments of our lives that we explain by or console ourselves with, the songs we heard at that time. My mother, in her truest moments of living, did so through song.
Mom loved U2 and so many of their songs. But I think when I consider her and U2 at the same time, this song ties them both together so well. The song is about addiction, about desperation, suffering, losing, and hurt. And all of this is expressed in a way that is so heartbreaking.
She runs through the streets
With her eyes painted red
Under black belly of cloud in the rain
In through a doorway she brings me
White gold and pearls stolen from the sea
She is raging
She is raging
And the storm blows up in her eyes
She will...
Suffer the needle chill
She's running to stand..............still.
So when I was 18 and living in Tahlequah, my mom moved up there for a bit. This wasn't the best of all times for her in terms of stability, but she was, as she always was, magic and electricity, and fire.
She came with her VHS copy of Rattle and Hum and we would watch it over and over and over again. Not just watch it, mind you, but sing as well. She would always, in drunken dramatics, announce what the song meant to her, and why. It wasn't enough that the song existed on its own. It was part of her now, part of her soul and part of all that made up her universe.
Songs can be the fabric of us. There are moments of our lives that we explain by or console ourselves with, the songs we heard at that time. My mother, in her truest moments of living, did so through song.
Mom loved U2 and so many of their songs. But I think when I consider her and U2 at the same time, this song ties them both together so well. The song is about addiction, about desperation, suffering, losing, and hurt. And all of this is expressed in a way that is so heartbreaking.
She runs through the streets
With her eyes painted red
Under black belly of cloud in the rain
In through a doorway she brings me
White gold and pearls stolen from the sea
She is raging
She is raging
And the storm blows up in her eyes
She will...
Suffer the needle chill
She's running to stand..............still.
Yes. That is my mom. Always.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
In Which She is Grateful
Today was nice. My roommate and I basically goofed off and laughed all day. We started a conversation in the morning that basically wound its way through the whole day. I like it when that happens. The cats weren't assholes and while it was hot, we managed to get everything turned on before we got too hot. During the evening, we basically made fun of TV shows and continued our discussion.
Why am I telling you this? Because I have more days like this than not. Quite often, there are lots of very good things going on for me and I should take time to make mention of them. This isn't to say everything is perfect or that I don't have Days of Shitastica. If you read the blog, you know I do. However, even during the bad days, even during the worst days, there are still moments of really good.
This is going to be a short post, because I'm tired and it's muggy and I really want to just sleep for a while, but even given all of that, I'm still going to bed feeling good.
I hope you sleep well and have a good day tomorrow.
Why am I telling you this? Because I have more days like this than not. Quite often, there are lots of very good things going on for me and I should take time to make mention of them. This isn't to say everything is perfect or that I don't have Days of Shitastica. If you read the blog, you know I do. However, even during the bad days, even during the worst days, there are still moments of really good.
This is going to be a short post, because I'm tired and it's muggy and I really want to just sleep for a while, but even given all of that, I'm still going to bed feeling good.
I hope you sleep well and have a good day tomorrow.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Happiness: An Ongoing Essay Part Four
ROOM TO MOVE
When I was a kid, my mother was in a constant state of rearranging the furniture. Things were always in a shuffle, tvs moved here and there, tables transferred from one room to another, plants taken inside or set outside. At the end of the day, once all the dust was settled and things were in their new place, I would sit in the new area and feel happy. I never understood why I felt happy, but I always did.
As I've gotten older, there have been some trends in home design that have caused people to have to orient their rooms in only one or two ways. To be honest, I think this is adding to a lot of the stress and unhappiness in our lives. You see, we should always be able to move the furniture around. It does add to the happies. Don't believe me? Let's look at some reasons why, shall we?
1. Rearranging a room is basically solving a puzzle. Solving puzzles makes us happy.
Sure, dealing with puzzle problems can be very stressful, but when we begin to truly focus on ways to solve, our brain starts producing the happies for us. There is a minor high that goes along with puzzle solving, which is why puzzles are sold along with other games.
2. Rearranging a room uses both sides of our brains. The logical, mathematical side is getting used in looking at how well the room will function. The artistic, creative side is getting used in seeing how well things will flow, where decorations should go, how the light will hit things, etc. Any time we can get the two lobes working together, we're going to be happier.
3. Rearranging the room gives you a chance to alter the math. I'm a strong believer in the mathematics of things. In any given room (and any given life), there are millions of equations going on and the nature of how these equations relate to each other produces a level of energy. When you begin to mess with the equations, you allow yourself to change the energy of the room, and in many cases, produce more energy, at least for a short time.
4. Chasing down the dust bunnies. Okay, this is a slightly more practical note, but important nevertheless. Dust and other bits of fluff and nasty gets to gather in places like baseboards and behind couches and other heavy pieces of furniture. It can gather on tops of mirrors and artwork and always, always on the knit-knacks. When you rearrange things, you can do a quick dusting/vacuuming over neglected spaces. Less dust is always good for your health.
5. Clutter assessment. Speaking of the dust collectors, when you change up a room, you have a chance to decide if you want to keep out all the things you have just sitting on other stuff. Recently when we rearranged part of the living room, we gave the ax to several old baskets and some candle holders. They'd far outlived any usefulness and were just taking up space.
6. Personal assessment. Rearranging a room gives you a chance to really look at your life, your wants, and how you orient your life. This isn't a value judgment. You see, all too often, we do things because we think we're supposed to without considering what we really need.
For example, let's say you have a couch, two chairs, a large stereo, and a large TV in your room. You know it's too much stuff and you need to make changes. The best way to do this is to decide what you truly do in this room most of the time.
If you never listen to music, remove the stereo. Take it to another room in the house, one where you are more likely to use it.
If you never have guests, consider removing some of the places to sit. Just taking out one of the chairs will give you a lot more room. Or, if the couch is never ever used, take it out. Suddenly the space will feel huge.
Or, say, you only watch TV before going to sleep. You have this big TV in your living room but only a small one in your bedroom.....how do this make sense? Find a way to move the larger TV into the room where you actually use it.
In conclusion, I'd like to state that the opposite of this is true as well. When you are in a room or a house where you can't really move things around, it begins to wear on you. Sometimes (dorms, campers, prison), there isn't a damned thing you can do about this. You just have to make the best of it.
Other times, however, you need to think about the decisions that lead to your room being impossible to move and consider if those reasons justify your unhappiness.
All of my life, one of the fixtures of furniture has been this oak ball and claw occasional table my grandparents owned. When I was really young, they kept their record player on it. Gran and I would play her old Bob Wills albums and dance to them. I'd play my Jungle Book album and sing all the songs (except "Trust in Me" because it scared me).
When they moved, they took the table with them, so while I lost the house I had as a kid, I had this table to remind me. It was moved from point to point in the living room, sometimes serving to hold lamps, sometimes to hold pictures or as a mail drop off. However, during these years, it wasn't well maintained. It's grown more and more rickety and parts of it are being held together by wire.
I set it in the corner of the room when we moved into the house. I had to do this because I could use the wall as support on two sides. It held a lamp, those candle holders and baskets, and our internet stuff. Whenever a cat would get on it, it would wobble.
I had to make some changes in my room so I could have better access to fans. This required me moving a piece of furniture out and really the only logical place for it was where the ball and claw table sat. I did not want to do this, so I hesitated, continuing to sleep in a hot room while I considered what to do about the table.......that was wobbly.....and served no real purpose.....but I loved.
Finally I realized the only logical and reasonable choice was to have the table safely put in storage. We did so (thanks to my roommate), and then did what rearrangement we needed on my bedroom and the living room.
And it has made all the difference in the world. My room is cooler now, the living room feels less cluttered, and everything has a higher level of functionality.
The best part? Changed energy means more contentment. This leads to more happiness and that is, after all, our goal.
When I was a kid, my mother was in a constant state of rearranging the furniture. Things were always in a shuffle, tvs moved here and there, tables transferred from one room to another, plants taken inside or set outside. At the end of the day, once all the dust was settled and things were in their new place, I would sit in the new area and feel happy. I never understood why I felt happy, but I always did.
As I've gotten older, there have been some trends in home design that have caused people to have to orient their rooms in only one or two ways. To be honest, I think this is adding to a lot of the stress and unhappiness in our lives. You see, we should always be able to move the furniture around. It does add to the happies. Don't believe me? Let's look at some reasons why, shall we?
1. Rearranging a room is basically solving a puzzle. Solving puzzles makes us happy.
Sure, dealing with puzzle problems can be very stressful, but when we begin to truly focus on ways to solve, our brain starts producing the happies for us. There is a minor high that goes along with puzzle solving, which is why puzzles are sold along with other games.
2. Rearranging a room uses both sides of our brains. The logical, mathematical side is getting used in looking at how well the room will function. The artistic, creative side is getting used in seeing how well things will flow, where decorations should go, how the light will hit things, etc. Any time we can get the two lobes working together, we're going to be happier.
3. Rearranging the room gives you a chance to alter the math. I'm a strong believer in the mathematics of things. In any given room (and any given life), there are millions of equations going on and the nature of how these equations relate to each other produces a level of energy. When you begin to mess with the equations, you allow yourself to change the energy of the room, and in many cases, produce more energy, at least for a short time.
4. Chasing down the dust bunnies. Okay, this is a slightly more practical note, but important nevertheless. Dust and other bits of fluff and nasty gets to gather in places like baseboards and behind couches and other heavy pieces of furniture. It can gather on tops of mirrors and artwork and always, always on the knit-knacks. When you rearrange things, you can do a quick dusting/vacuuming over neglected spaces. Less dust is always good for your health.
5. Clutter assessment. Speaking of the dust collectors, when you change up a room, you have a chance to decide if you want to keep out all the things you have just sitting on other stuff. Recently when we rearranged part of the living room, we gave the ax to several old baskets and some candle holders. They'd far outlived any usefulness and were just taking up space.
6. Personal assessment. Rearranging a room gives you a chance to really look at your life, your wants, and how you orient your life. This isn't a value judgment. You see, all too often, we do things because we think we're supposed to without considering what we really need.
For example, let's say you have a couch, two chairs, a large stereo, and a large TV in your room. You know it's too much stuff and you need to make changes. The best way to do this is to decide what you truly do in this room most of the time.
If you never listen to music, remove the stereo. Take it to another room in the house, one where you are more likely to use it.
If you never have guests, consider removing some of the places to sit. Just taking out one of the chairs will give you a lot more room. Or, if the couch is never ever used, take it out. Suddenly the space will feel huge.
Or, say, you only watch TV before going to sleep. You have this big TV in your living room but only a small one in your bedroom.....how do this make sense? Find a way to move the larger TV into the room where you actually use it.
In conclusion, I'd like to state that the opposite of this is true as well. When you are in a room or a house where you can't really move things around, it begins to wear on you. Sometimes (dorms, campers, prison), there isn't a damned thing you can do about this. You just have to make the best of it.
Other times, however, you need to think about the decisions that lead to your room being impossible to move and consider if those reasons justify your unhappiness.
All of my life, one of the fixtures of furniture has been this oak ball and claw occasional table my grandparents owned. When I was really young, they kept their record player on it. Gran and I would play her old Bob Wills albums and dance to them. I'd play my Jungle Book album and sing all the songs (except "Trust in Me" because it scared me).
When they moved, they took the table with them, so while I lost the house I had as a kid, I had this table to remind me. It was moved from point to point in the living room, sometimes serving to hold lamps, sometimes to hold pictures or as a mail drop off. However, during these years, it wasn't well maintained. It's grown more and more rickety and parts of it are being held together by wire.
I set it in the corner of the room when we moved into the house. I had to do this because I could use the wall as support on two sides. It held a lamp, those candle holders and baskets, and our internet stuff. Whenever a cat would get on it, it would wobble.
I had to make some changes in my room so I could have better access to fans. This required me moving a piece of furniture out and really the only logical place for it was where the ball and claw table sat. I did not want to do this, so I hesitated, continuing to sleep in a hot room while I considered what to do about the table.......that was wobbly.....and served no real purpose.....but I loved.
Finally I realized the only logical and reasonable choice was to have the table safely put in storage. We did so (thanks to my roommate), and then did what rearrangement we needed on my bedroom and the living room.
And it has made all the difference in the world. My room is cooler now, the living room feels less cluttered, and everything has a higher level of functionality.
The best part? Changed energy means more contentment. This leads to more happiness and that is, after all, our goal.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Comfort by Parody
It's been a really really long day. I'm tired and kind of emotionally strung out. Right now, I'm consoling myself by watching music video parodies. I love You Tube so much. It brings me vast joy and comfort.
I think the best way to survive life is to find things like this, the small bits and places where you can find comfort. There is so much mental and emotional healing that can come from being comforted, laughing, finding a bit of peace or humor.
Anyway, short post tonight. I need sleep and whatnots. See you tomorrow.
I think the best way to survive life is to find things like this, the small bits and places where you can find comfort. There is so much mental and emotional healing that can come from being comforted, laughing, finding a bit of peace or humor.
Anyway, short post tonight. I need sleep and whatnots. See you tomorrow.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Summer Rain
At one point today, it was 106 degrees outside. Which means that in my bedroom, it was probably like 118 or so. Then, by the complete wonderful and seemingly random awesomeness, it started to rain. This happened about the time I was taking out the trash.
So I get to the steps and sit the trash bags on the ground. I sit down on the bench thingy off the steps and let the rain fall on me. It was, I think, the first really wonderful experience that Teh Outsidez and I have had this summer. Most of the time of late, Teh Outsidez is an abusive jackass to me. I get overheated. My arms get burned. I sweat. Yeah, none of it has been fun.
Today though . . . today I sat on the bench and enjoyed the rain. The bench was still really hot from absorbing so much heat, but that was a very nice contrast to the cold raindrops. The sky was overcast, making everything seem greener than it actually is right now. Best of all, the rain was making the dead grass smell wonderful. I have no idea why I love that scent so much, but I do. Maybe because every time I smell it, I'm getting some relief from the hot ass sunlight.
One of our outdoor cats came over and I scratched his ears. He enjoyed the pets and I enjoyed spending a little time with him. And it occurred to me that this would be a moment I would keep with me. My memory of summer 2011 would include this one, happy moment when it rained and I was happy to be out in it. I'm glad it happened.
So I get to the steps and sit the trash bags on the ground. I sit down on the bench thingy off the steps and let the rain fall on me. It was, I think, the first really wonderful experience that Teh Outsidez and I have had this summer. Most of the time of late, Teh Outsidez is an abusive jackass to me. I get overheated. My arms get burned. I sweat. Yeah, none of it has been fun.
Today though . . . today I sat on the bench and enjoyed the rain. The bench was still really hot from absorbing so much heat, but that was a very nice contrast to the cold raindrops. The sky was overcast, making everything seem greener than it actually is right now. Best of all, the rain was making the dead grass smell wonderful. I have no idea why I love that scent so much, but I do. Maybe because every time I smell it, I'm getting some relief from the hot ass sunlight.
One of our outdoor cats came over and I scratched his ears. He enjoyed the pets and I enjoyed spending a little time with him. And it occurred to me that this would be a moment I would keep with me. My memory of summer 2011 would include this one, happy moment when it rained and I was happy to be out in it. I'm glad it happened.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
That Which is Both Deathly AND Hallow
The days seem to be dragging. It's only Tuesday and it feels like it should be the weekend again. I hate this. Time is supposed to speed up as you get older. Stop dragging, dammit!
I know that seems a little death wishy, but it really isn't . . . well, not much, anyway. I just really believe in the ending of things. It's not a bad thing, it IS a blessing. Life ends, seasons end, relationships end, phases end. As much as the beginning of things can be wonderful and magical, the ending of things can be powerful, amazing, and best of all, a vast relief.
I know I harp on this topic a lot, but I think it's important. Everyday, I find myself facing situations that annoy the piss out of me, mostly because they have gone on far longer than they should. TV shows that are holding on for dear life and are now devoid of plot or development. Relationships where you can predict every annoying thing the other person will say, each instance that will set them off, every repeated story, every complaint. Patterns and cycles that go on endlessly, predictably, and with the same stagnation as before and before and before.
However, despite all of this, one thing is finally coming to an end. The last Harry Potter movie will be out Friday, second part of the adaptation of the last book, which they felt they needed to drag out into a second movie. Once it is over, the era is over. People can move on with their lives.
Don't get me wrong. I loved Harry Potter for a long time. Then . . . I read the books to see what happened . . . . then I read them because I wanted to finish the damned series. Rowling could have tightened up her ending and plotted it better. She also could have kept a better rapport with her fanbase. I wanted the last book to be epic and amazing and found that a lot of it was just the three leads fighting with each other . . .
But not it will be over. For better or worse, the Potter Era is finished. People will still read the books and read them to their children, but it will be with a sense of the past, not the current madness it's been for so long. Of course, the best parts won't leave us, even the parts that are just made up shit in our heads.
For instance, in my mind, Lucius Malfoy has a poodle he talks to all the time. The poodle is actually smarter than him and kept trying to get him to NOT follow Voldemort.
Yes, I think weird things. Still, that would be awesome. And whenever I see Lucius in the movies now, I see the poodle following him around, bitching at him about how he should stop this nonsense.
Anyway, I shall leave you with Hedwig.
,____,
[O.O]
/)___)
--"--"--
I know that seems a little death wishy, but it really isn't . . . well, not much, anyway. I just really believe in the ending of things. It's not a bad thing, it IS a blessing. Life ends, seasons end, relationships end, phases end. As much as the beginning of things can be wonderful and magical, the ending of things can be powerful, amazing, and best of all, a vast relief.
I know I harp on this topic a lot, but I think it's important. Everyday, I find myself facing situations that annoy the piss out of me, mostly because they have gone on far longer than they should. TV shows that are holding on for dear life and are now devoid of plot or development. Relationships where you can predict every annoying thing the other person will say, each instance that will set them off, every repeated story, every complaint. Patterns and cycles that go on endlessly, predictably, and with the same stagnation as before and before and before.
However, despite all of this, one thing is finally coming to an end. The last Harry Potter movie will be out Friday, second part of the adaptation of the last book, which they felt they needed to drag out into a second movie. Once it is over, the era is over. People can move on with their lives.
Don't get me wrong. I loved Harry Potter for a long time. Then . . . I read the books to see what happened . . . . then I read them because I wanted to finish the damned series. Rowling could have tightened up her ending and plotted it better. She also could have kept a better rapport with her fanbase. I wanted the last book to be epic and amazing and found that a lot of it was just the three leads fighting with each other . . .
But not it will be over. For better or worse, the Potter Era is finished. People will still read the books and read them to their children, but it will be with a sense of the past, not the current madness it's been for so long. Of course, the best parts won't leave us, even the parts that are just made up shit in our heads.
For instance, in my mind, Lucius Malfoy has a poodle he talks to all the time. The poodle is actually smarter than him and kept trying to get him to NOT follow Voldemort.
Yes, I think weird things. Still, that would be awesome. And whenever I see Lucius in the movies now, I see the poodle following him around, bitching at him about how he should stop this nonsense.
Anyway, I shall leave you with Hedwig.
,____,
[O.O]
/)___)
--"--"--
Monday, July 11, 2011
How to Handle Hell: The Unspoken Rules
There is this part on Supernatural when Cas goes to visit Crowley and they are standing at the end of a long, long line. Cas asks Crowley what the line is for, and the former Crossroads demon and current King of Hell replies something like, "Oh, the line doesn't lead to anywhere. You see, there is nothing more horrible to modern people than waiting in line forever. This is the best Hell ever." Cruel bastard. Cruel, astute bastard.
Okay, so today I had to go do something that required me being around a lot of other people who wanted the same thing that I did, standing in line, and hell. While there, I thought of some unspoken rules to situations like this that should be really obvious to people, but for some reason, aren't.
RULES FOR WAITING IN LINE FOR FIRST COME/FIRST SERVE STUFF
1. You are not a special little snowflake.
Look, I'm fat as hell and as mobile as.........well, okay, I think everything is more mobile than me. But when I go into situations like this, while I realize my physical condition sucks, more than likely, so does everyone else's. I'm not going to get special treatment for my problems. You're not going to get special treatment for yours either.
So whatever your situation is, the people in charge don't care. No matter how many times you walk up there to tell them your mom needs her flat fixed or your daughter is having surgery, they don't care. First come, first serve.
2. Take all weather conditions into consideration.
When people are going to be in a line and you know it, make sure you are as prepared as possible.
I could have done this one better. I showed up dressed all in black to wait in the hot sun. At least I sprayed my arms with sunscreen before getting out of the van.
Some people were really prepared. They had not only bottles of water (and in some cases, their own chairs), but also umbrellas. Okay, I could have gotten my umbrella out of the car too, but I didn't want to lose my place in line. That was hard enough as it was.
3. Positive energy is always welcome.
While you should never expect special treatment for your own situation, I did see many people who were kind to those around them. One group of women let an old lady with an oxygen tank go ahead of them. Many people were asking others if they were okay. People shared information about length of wait, made sure to announce when chairs would be empty.
4. If you know there is going to be a long line and a lot of people, bring as few people with you as possible.
Seriously, I know sometimes it can be hard to find a babysitter, but considering that the date for this event was announced well in advance, there was ample time to find someone to watch your kids. Kids are twitchy. They cause problems and make other people nervous.
At one point, when my not-a-special-little-snowflake fat ass was sitting on the floor, some kid almost hit me in the face with its toy it was swinging back and forth. At another point, some kids spilled their water all over the floor. Yes, on the slick floors where hundreds of people would be walking.
Kids aren't the only people who don't need to show up. Don't bring your boyfriend. Don't bring your mom. Don't bring your best friend so you two can gab during the wait. Unless, lovers, parents, and best friends need to fill out things on their own while there, keep them at home. Let them watch the kids!
5. Finally, remember this is only a temporary situation.
Unlike Crowley's Hell, you won't be in line forever. Don't let it get to you. Don't get emotional about it. This can be difficult, yes. I have anxiety issues and had moments of panic while there . . . but I kept reminding myself that eventually it would all be over and I could go back to my usual life.
No one wants to be there and more than likely, no one is there specifically to make your life hellish. Are they inconsiderate? Yes. Are they thoughtless and annoying? Yes. But more than likely, they're not doing it on purpose.
And maybe they'll read this list and not do so much of it next time!
Okay, so today I had to go do something that required me being around a lot of other people who wanted the same thing that I did, standing in line, and hell. While there, I thought of some unspoken rules to situations like this that should be really obvious to people, but for some reason, aren't.
RULES FOR WAITING IN LINE FOR FIRST COME/FIRST SERVE STUFF
1. You are not a special little snowflake.
Look, I'm fat as hell and as mobile as.........well, okay, I think everything is more mobile than me. But when I go into situations like this, while I realize my physical condition sucks, more than likely, so does everyone else's. I'm not going to get special treatment for my problems. You're not going to get special treatment for yours either.
So whatever your situation is, the people in charge don't care. No matter how many times you walk up there to tell them your mom needs her flat fixed or your daughter is having surgery, they don't care. First come, first serve.
2. Take all weather conditions into consideration.
When people are going to be in a line and you know it, make sure you are as prepared as possible.
I could have done this one better. I showed up dressed all in black to wait in the hot sun. At least I sprayed my arms with sunscreen before getting out of the van.
Some people were really prepared. They had not only bottles of water (and in some cases, their own chairs), but also umbrellas. Okay, I could have gotten my umbrella out of the car too, but I didn't want to lose my place in line. That was hard enough as it was.
3. Positive energy is always welcome.
While you should never expect special treatment for your own situation, I did see many people who were kind to those around them. One group of women let an old lady with an oxygen tank go ahead of them. Many people were asking others if they were okay. People shared information about length of wait, made sure to announce when chairs would be empty.
4. If you know there is going to be a long line and a lot of people, bring as few people with you as possible.
Seriously, I know sometimes it can be hard to find a babysitter, but considering that the date for this event was announced well in advance, there was ample time to find someone to watch your kids. Kids are twitchy. They cause problems and make other people nervous.
At one point, when my not-a-special-little-snowflake fat ass was sitting on the floor, some kid almost hit me in the face with its toy it was swinging back and forth. At another point, some kids spilled their water all over the floor. Yes, on the slick floors where hundreds of people would be walking.
Kids aren't the only people who don't need to show up. Don't bring your boyfriend. Don't bring your mom. Don't bring your best friend so you two can gab during the wait. Unless, lovers, parents, and best friends need to fill out things on their own while there, keep them at home. Let them watch the kids!
5. Finally, remember this is only a temporary situation.
Unlike Crowley's Hell, you won't be in line forever. Don't let it get to you. Don't get emotional about it. This can be difficult, yes. I have anxiety issues and had moments of panic while there . . . but I kept reminding myself that eventually it would all be over and I could go back to my usual life.
No one wants to be there and more than likely, no one is there specifically to make your life hellish. Are they inconsiderate? Yes. Are they thoughtless and annoying? Yes. But more than likely, they're not doing it on purpose.
And maybe they'll read this list and not do so much of it next time!
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Mehness
This will be another short post, as I have to get up in the morning and deal with some stuff. The stuff I have to deal with always makes me nervous because I have to be around a lot of people. There is also the fact that if it doesn't happen the way we want, I was the one who did it. I hate that shit.
Anyway, it was insanely hot again today. It maxed at 108, which is just horrible. I stayed inside for most of the day, but that didn't help much.
I'll post more tomorrow. Wish me luck.
Anyway, it was insanely hot again today. It maxed at 108, which is just horrible. I stayed inside for most of the day, but that didn't help much.
I'll post more tomorrow. Wish me luck.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Not Smartness
I started the day off kind of raging about the rather anti-women, anti-gay, anti-basically everything that isn't WASP marriage bill that the Republicans are all supposed to be signing. Then I realized this was a blessing in disguise because it makes weeding out the crazy ones really easy.
I really don't understand the logic of things like this. If you know that the people you may be pleasing by signing this thing make up less than half of the voting public, why alienate everyone else?
And, I wonder if there will be any of the candidates who stand up to this kind of thing and say, "Look, I'd like to fix the economy. That is the important thing here. I have plans to do so that are grounded in logic and reason. I'm sure you'd like for me to fix the economy too so why are you trying to sabotage me by making me sign something that will ensure Obama wins again?"
Will any of them say this? Probably not. And thus, the beat goes on.
I really don't understand the logic of things like this. If you know that the people you may be pleasing by signing this thing make up less than half of the voting public, why alienate everyone else?
And, I wonder if there will be any of the candidates who stand up to this kind of thing and say, "Look, I'd like to fix the economy. That is the important thing here. I have plans to do so that are grounded in logic and reason. I'm sure you'd like for me to fix the economy too so why are you trying to sabotage me by making me sign something that will ensure Obama wins again?"
Will any of them say this? Probably not. And thus, the beat goes on.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
The Man in the Elevator at 4 AM
So there is this whole big controversy going on in the nonbeliever circles about Richard Dawkins and his comments. You can read it here. Dawkins made comments that were dismissive and, quite frankly, shitty. A lot of men though, are all up in arms about the situation and how women are overreacting. Given that, I'd like to take this time to be quite inclusive to the men and extend my hand.
Hello, gentlemen. Welcome to the Rape Culture.
Welcome to a culture where women have been drilled into their heads every day, every single day, that they have to be on their guard against rapists at all times.
If they are not in guard and they get raped, it's their fault for being stupid.
If they show any signs of being nice or vulnerable and they get raped, it's their fault for being encouraging.
It is not feminists who have taught us this. You assume the feminists taught us and told us to hate and fear men, but it wasn't. We have been told this by friends, family, churches, lawyers, schools, and everyone else.
There maybe was that one or two times when we let our guard down because we thought the Special Safety Rules for Women were stupid. The shitty thing is, for a lot of us, that one time we let our guards down, we actually did get assaulted.
So we take self defense classes, we travel in groups, we keep pepper spray on our person, and, for many of us, we structure our lives in a way to stay as far away from men as possible.
And no, it's not that we hate you. It is merely that we have been told, over and over again, that it is our responsibility to stay safe and not put ourselves in those million situations where we can get raped.
What does this mean for you, as men?
It means that, like in the situation presented in the article, no woman will ever go have coffee with you at 4 AM in your hotel room.
It means that fewer women will come to your parties.
It means that fewer and fewer women will show up at the vacation spots where there is a known higher level of rapes.
It means that women won't just start talking to you in the book store or the coffee shop or the grocery store, because a lot of bad things have come from that as well.
It means that trust will become harder, perhaps impossible.
It means you will be viewed as a potential rapist.
And if you are someone who went into any of these situations with innocent intentions, this is going to suck. It will probably make you angry.
The interesting thing is, you will have two choices at this point. You can either be angry at all the women for not trusting men and avoiding them and being upset when you approached them . . . or you can get angry at the real cause here.
You can be angry at the rapists who purposefully go to Spring Break places to drug and rape as many women as possible.
You can be angry at the rapists who decide to violate the ancient rules of being good hosts and rape the women who come to their parties.
You can be angry at the rapists who practice, actually practice, at ways to draw women out and make them trust them, who hunt in book stores and coffee shops, all with the intention of doing violence to another person's body.
You can be angry at the rape culture for letting all of this seem fine.
You can realize that rape culture is fundamentally damaging to all people and all relationships.
And finally, like the others of us, you can work for ways to change it.
Hello, gentlemen. Welcome to the Rape Culture.
Welcome to a culture where women have been drilled into their heads every day, every single day, that they have to be on their guard against rapists at all times.
If they are not in guard and they get raped, it's their fault for being stupid.
If they show any signs of being nice or vulnerable and they get raped, it's their fault for being encouraging.
It is not feminists who have taught us this. You assume the feminists taught us and told us to hate and fear men, but it wasn't. We have been told this by friends, family, churches, lawyers, schools, and everyone else.
There maybe was that one or two times when we let our guard down because we thought the Special Safety Rules for Women were stupid. The shitty thing is, for a lot of us, that one time we let our guards down, we actually did get assaulted.
So we take self defense classes, we travel in groups, we keep pepper spray on our person, and, for many of us, we structure our lives in a way to stay as far away from men as possible.
And no, it's not that we hate you. It is merely that we have been told, over and over again, that it is our responsibility to stay safe and not put ourselves in those million situations where we can get raped.
What does this mean for you, as men?
It means that, like in the situation presented in the article, no woman will ever go have coffee with you at 4 AM in your hotel room.
It means that fewer women will come to your parties.
It means that fewer and fewer women will show up at the vacation spots where there is a known higher level of rapes.
It means that women won't just start talking to you in the book store or the coffee shop or the grocery store, because a lot of bad things have come from that as well.
It means that trust will become harder, perhaps impossible.
It means you will be viewed as a potential rapist.
And if you are someone who went into any of these situations with innocent intentions, this is going to suck. It will probably make you angry.
The interesting thing is, you will have two choices at this point. You can either be angry at all the women for not trusting men and avoiding them and being upset when you approached them . . . or you can get angry at the real cause here.
You can be angry at the rapists who purposefully go to Spring Break places to drug and rape as many women as possible.
You can be angry at the rapists who decide to violate the ancient rules of being good hosts and rape the women who come to their parties.
You can be angry at the rapists who practice, actually practice, at ways to draw women out and make them trust them, who hunt in book stores and coffee shops, all with the intention of doing violence to another person's body.
You can be angry at the rape culture for letting all of this seem fine.
You can realize that rape culture is fundamentally damaging to all people and all relationships.
And finally, like the others of us, you can work for ways to change it.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
The International Kissing Day Sims Experiment
Today on Facebook, The Sims 3 posted that if people put pictures of kissing sims on their Wall, they would make them part of the International Kissing Day album. So I posted this.
Okay, I know the pic is somewhat subversive. There is torture stuff in the background and she is wearing a mask, but people were so confused.
"Are they lesbians?"
"Fail! This is Medieval Sims, not Sims 3."
"How can she kiss him with the mask on?"
On the picture, I wrote:
It isn't Medieval. The blonde is a man. The torture set is from Club Crimson and everything else is from either the base game or FastLane. I just recolored the FL stuff to look more dungeony.
When I saw that creepy Dolores Umbridge hair from Generations, I got the idea to make like this 1950s looking dom.
And yet . . . people still asked if they were lesbians, if this was some other Sims game. People commented how "gross" it was that it was two girls, how that just freaked them out. Some people thought it was hot. I'm not sure how they think the dude with the big muscled arms is a girl.
Anyway, that was my contribution to International Kissing Day. Subversive and confusing kissing. Hah!
"Are they lesbians?"
"Fail! This is Medieval Sims, not Sims 3."
"How can she kiss him with the mask on?"
On the picture, I wrote:
It isn't Medieval. The blonde is a man. The torture set is from Club Crimson and everything else is from either the base game or FastLane. I just recolored the FL stuff to look more dungeony.
When I saw that creepy Dolores Umbridge hair from Generations, I got the idea to make like this 1950s looking dom.
And yet . . . people still asked if they were lesbians, if this was some other Sims game. People commented how "gross" it was that it was two girls, how that just freaked them out. Some people thought it was hot. I'm not sure how they think the dude with the big muscled arms is a girl.
Anyway, that was my contribution to International Kissing Day. Subversive and confusing kissing. Hah!
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Social Snake Oil
Today I read an article written by the Devil. And by "the Devil," I mean Dr. Neil Clark Warren, who has degrees in ministry and psych that he got during the 1960s, which means all of his information on relationships was from decades before that. He is closely associated with Focus on the Family and best known for the company he founded, eHarmony.
In his article, Dr. Warren began by talking about how "shocking" new statistics show that "for the first time ever, fewer than half of the households in the United States are married couples. More couples now opt to merely live together instead of getting married, believing marriage to not even be necessary.
He considers this dangerous, because of course he does or at least pretends to, because he profits from marriage. He has handled a lot of marriage counseling over the years, works with a group kind of dedicated to promoting marriage by more or less scaring people about it, plus, the whole company that hooks desperate people up.
The rest of the article is blahdeblah about how people really want to get married and won't be happy unless they do and how children don't do as well with single or divorced parents. He brushes over a lot of other factors here, like how people are basically socialized to want to get married and how if you factor economic standing in with the "single and divorce household" children, you may find that not to be true.
He also brushes over how horrible and shitty and soulsucking marriage can be by basically saying it's not that marriage is broken, it's that people choose poorly. Then of course, he begins to talk about how if people go through a system of compatibility, they can choose their spouses better. I guess it kind of helps that he has a company that makes money, oh, ya know, DOING JUST THAT.
You know, I'm honestly not going to argue the merits of singlehood vs marriage here, because I've talked about that before. What I want to say is this........companies like eHarmony and any institution that depends on it's finances coming from continuing generations of people who believe the same thing being produced have a lot of questionable motives when it comes to speaking about marriage and children.
A company like eHarmony can't afford for people to start realizing that they don't have to be married to be happy because then no one will be using eHarmony. Organizations that lack the ability to draw in new members and rely almost exclusively on members being given birth to and indoctrinated can't afford for people to stop having boatloads of children because then their numbers will go down and they won't have the finances they are used to.
Whenever someone is talking to you, especially in a rather concerned or passionate manner, about the ills of society and whatnot, before you allow yourself to get emotional about it, always logically consider their angle. What do they stand to gain if you listen to them? Are they telling you something that benefits you or does it really benefit them and take from you?
The simple fact is, to many people, marriage just isn't all that important anymore. A lot of people want no more social interaction than what they can get from friends. The gender based factors are almost obsolete. Moreover, the social stigmas of being sexually active and/or having a child out of wedlock are fading. Beyond that, there are people who opt out of sex all together.
Of course those last two freak the hell out of the Focus on the Family types. And I'm honestly thinking the celibate one (ya know, as in celibate for nonreligious reasons, not because you're waiting for marriage or because everyone in the world refuses to have sex with you) freaks them out even more than the happy-go-lucky sluts (happy-go-slutties?). The idea that people can be fulfilled and content without the drama of other people in their lives . . . oh, how alien! How do we make money of of that?
Hmmm, I wonder how long it is before these groups (who tend to be rather anti-gay marriage) realize that there is money to be made in marrying off "them gayz." I bet once they see the profit margins, they'll suddenly have a nice big revelation about how Jesus is just fine with this. After all, if straight people aren't getting married, they'll need to be getting their cash from somewhere.
In his article, Dr. Warren began by talking about how "shocking" new statistics show that "for the first time ever, fewer than half of the households in the United States are married couples. More couples now opt to merely live together instead of getting married, believing marriage to not even be necessary.
He considers this dangerous, because of course he does or at least pretends to, because he profits from marriage. He has handled a lot of marriage counseling over the years, works with a group kind of dedicated to promoting marriage by more or less scaring people about it, plus, the whole company that hooks desperate people up.
The rest of the article is blahdeblah about how people really want to get married and won't be happy unless they do and how children don't do as well with single or divorced parents. He brushes over a lot of other factors here, like how people are basically socialized to want to get married and how if you factor economic standing in with the "single and divorce household" children, you may find that not to be true.
He also brushes over how horrible and shitty and soulsucking marriage can be by basically saying it's not that marriage is broken, it's that people choose poorly. Then of course, he begins to talk about how if people go through a system of compatibility, they can choose their spouses better. I guess it kind of helps that he has a company that makes money, oh, ya know, DOING JUST THAT.
You know, I'm honestly not going to argue the merits of singlehood vs marriage here, because I've talked about that before. What I want to say is this........companies like eHarmony and any institution that depends on it's finances coming from continuing generations of people who believe the same thing being produced have a lot of questionable motives when it comes to speaking about marriage and children.
A company like eHarmony can't afford for people to start realizing that they don't have to be married to be happy because then no one will be using eHarmony. Organizations that lack the ability to draw in new members and rely almost exclusively on members being given birth to and indoctrinated can't afford for people to stop having boatloads of children because then their numbers will go down and they won't have the finances they are used to.
Whenever someone is talking to you, especially in a rather concerned or passionate manner, about the ills of society and whatnot, before you allow yourself to get emotional about it, always logically consider their angle. What do they stand to gain if you listen to them? Are they telling you something that benefits you or does it really benefit them and take from you?
The simple fact is, to many people, marriage just isn't all that important anymore. A lot of people want no more social interaction than what they can get from friends. The gender based factors are almost obsolete. Moreover, the social stigmas of being sexually active and/or having a child out of wedlock are fading. Beyond that, there are people who opt out of sex all together.
Of course those last two freak the hell out of the Focus on the Family types. And I'm honestly thinking the celibate one (ya know, as in celibate for nonreligious reasons, not because you're waiting for marriage or because everyone in the world refuses to have sex with you) freaks them out even more than the happy-go-lucky sluts (happy-go-slutties?). The idea that people can be fulfilled and content without the drama of other people in their lives . . . oh, how alien! How do we make money of of that?
Hmmm, I wonder how long it is before these groups (who tend to be rather anti-gay marriage) realize that there is money to be made in marrying off "them gayz." I bet once they see the profit margins, they'll suddenly have a nice big revelation about how Jesus is just fine with this. After all, if straight people aren't getting married, they'll need to be getting their cash from somewhere.
Monday, July 4, 2011
The Childhood Home: Part Two, Burning
I know I've talked about the house burning before. I know that I discussed how it was burned by the KKK, in anger over my mother marrying (or . . . we assume she married him) Cuban. My brother was still very, very small and I think I was sevenish or so. I am fairly sure I mentioned it was on the Fourth of July, and that for years afterwards, I was very uncomfortable around fireworks. In a way, I still am.
Losing the house still hurts me. It hurts so badly because even as a small child, I loved that house. I walked away from the land without a second glance back, giving it all too my brother and step-father. I would have fought them tooth and claw for the house.
But that wasn't to be. The house burned and took my childhood, my dog, and really a great deal of my sanity with it.
I think I've written about this too, but it bears repeating because it is the single most important aspect of what happened that night. So if you feel like I'm summoning my ghosts for self-indulgence, I'm really not. I want to understand and I want to really talk about what happened to me the night the house burned.
There is a moment or maybe more than a moment . . .to be honest, I'm not sure because time stands so still . . . when the house is consumed by the flames, but everything looks like it's still there, like if you could remove the fire, everything would be okay. In the same way that something can be preserved forever in ice, that moment in the flames seemed to capture my home and all of its contents intact.
Also in that moment, as I guess part of my sanity really did slip away, I had this sudden urge to walk into the flames. I wanted to go into them and sit on the porch swing, open my bedroom door and sit on the floor by my dolls, holding them in all of that light and never realize when we melted together and burned away.
I get that what I just wrote sounds like bad goth fiction, but it's very, very true. And in the months that followed, when things were sad and stressful, when I got bounced around from family member to family member, I would find myself letting my mind drift back into that fantasy, sitting on the floor with my dolls as we burned and burned . . . and I would be comforted.
As things continued to get crazier, as mom's husband got more abusive and mom got more messed up, I began to feel my decision to resist the urge to run into that fire was the wrong one. Yes, as a 7-8 yr old, I was thinking that suicide by burning to death was a better option than living my life as it currently was. Several moments of horrible pain versus the constant hell mom was putting me through . . . maybe I was wrong.
And while I can't quite remember, I'm guessing it was during this time that I began cutting myself. Possibly . . . I know the level of emotional comfort is very close between the fantasy about the fire and fugue state I would put myself into when I was jabbing sharp things into my feet.
You know, even now, 30 years later, while I am sketchy on a lot of details, I still vividly remember the beauty of that moment when the house stood in flames. I still remember the way my heart beat, how I was breathing, how everything sounded, and most importantly how my fingertips had just the slightest bit of sweat to them, like they wanted so much to pull me forward.
Sometimes I wonder if I think about that moment every day of my life, if somehow I always go back to it, back to choosing a life of pain over a few moments of pain was the right choice. I wish I could tell you I always think it was . . . but I don't. Depression, panic, devastation, and sometimes even ennui have made me question it many, many times.
In any case, it is the Fourth and I will mourn those lost . . . Mary my baby doll, who wore a white dress and was loved beyond reason. My Malibu Barbie, who had spiffy 70s tan lines and smelled like coconut oil. And Beth, darling, sweet Beth, the St. Bernard who loved me so much. I miss you all, like I miss my tea set and my antique bed and the jade grapes my father gave me.
You were burned and lost to me, taken by bigots into the fires of a house that caused my mother's madness . . . as well as my own.
Losing the house still hurts me. It hurts so badly because even as a small child, I loved that house. I walked away from the land without a second glance back, giving it all too my brother and step-father. I would have fought them tooth and claw for the house.
But that wasn't to be. The house burned and took my childhood, my dog, and really a great deal of my sanity with it.
I think I've written about this too, but it bears repeating because it is the single most important aspect of what happened that night. So if you feel like I'm summoning my ghosts for self-indulgence, I'm really not. I want to understand and I want to really talk about what happened to me the night the house burned.
There is a moment or maybe more than a moment . . .to be honest, I'm not sure because time stands so still . . . when the house is consumed by the flames, but everything looks like it's still there, like if you could remove the fire, everything would be okay. In the same way that something can be preserved forever in ice, that moment in the flames seemed to capture my home and all of its contents intact.
Also in that moment, as I guess part of my sanity really did slip away, I had this sudden urge to walk into the flames. I wanted to go into them and sit on the porch swing, open my bedroom door and sit on the floor by my dolls, holding them in all of that light and never realize when we melted together and burned away.
I get that what I just wrote sounds like bad goth fiction, but it's very, very true. And in the months that followed, when things were sad and stressful, when I got bounced around from family member to family member, I would find myself letting my mind drift back into that fantasy, sitting on the floor with my dolls as we burned and burned . . . and I would be comforted.
As things continued to get crazier, as mom's husband got more abusive and mom got more messed up, I began to feel my decision to resist the urge to run into that fire was the wrong one. Yes, as a 7-8 yr old, I was thinking that suicide by burning to death was a better option than living my life as it currently was. Several moments of horrible pain versus the constant hell mom was putting me through . . . maybe I was wrong.
And while I can't quite remember, I'm guessing it was during this time that I began cutting myself. Possibly . . . I know the level of emotional comfort is very close between the fantasy about the fire and fugue state I would put myself into when I was jabbing sharp things into my feet.
You know, even now, 30 years later, while I am sketchy on a lot of details, I still vividly remember the beauty of that moment when the house stood in flames. I still remember the way my heart beat, how I was breathing, how everything sounded, and most importantly how my fingertips had just the slightest bit of sweat to them, like they wanted so much to pull me forward.
Sometimes I wonder if I think about that moment every day of my life, if somehow I always go back to it, back to choosing a life of pain over a few moments of pain was the right choice. I wish I could tell you I always think it was . . . but I don't. Depression, panic, devastation, and sometimes even ennui have made me question it many, many times.
In any case, it is the Fourth and I will mourn those lost . . . Mary my baby doll, who wore a white dress and was loved beyond reason. My Malibu Barbie, who had spiffy 70s tan lines and smelled like coconut oil. And Beth, darling, sweet Beth, the St. Bernard who loved me so much. I miss you all, like I miss my tea set and my antique bed and the jade grapes my father gave me.
You were burned and lost to me, taken by bigots into the fires of a house that caused my mother's madness . . . as well as my own.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
The Childhood Home: Part One, The House that was Earned
The house was inherited from my great-grandmother, left to my mother along with 23 acres of land. This was not a gift. It was earned.
My mother lived with her grandmother for years. Not because her parents were gone . . . in fact, they were just down the road. She lived with her grandmother because the old woman was a demanding bully who always got what she wanted.
I have been told that at some point, I'm fuzzy on the details, she informed everyone that she would never lift another finger to do anything at all for anyone, including herself. For some crazy reason, everyone allowed this.
I have no idea how this happened, especially during a time when women were basically treated like servants. I guess she must have have cult of personality spades. Anyway, when my grandmother married into the family, she was informed she would be doing things for my grandfather's parents. And by things, I mean, everything. Cooking for them, washing their clothes, driving them places. It was like having to managed two households but with no perks at all.
Oh and to be clear, the old woman wasn't nice about this. She didn't thank anyone or compliment what they did. No, she was a deeply bitter person who never saw a positive aspect to anything. My grandfather paid for her house, but it wasn't good enough. He paid for the upkeep, for the redecoration. He did the painting on it, made sure the yard was mowed. But none of it was ever done to her satisfaction.
Instead, the old woman lived in a fictional world where she knew best about all things and was burdened to be around people who lacked the skills or interest to live up to her expectations. Her life was a state of perpetual misery. She made sure everyone else's was as well.
After her husband died, she informed my grandfather that she would not sleep in the house alone. My uncle was sent to to stay with her for a while, but then he left for college. At that point, my mother was sent to stay with the woman. Keep in mind, my mother was like seven years younger than my uncle. She was just into her second decade when this madness began.
No one living knows what happened during these years. I know that my mother would only say the woman was "evil. Pure evil." I know that my grandmother, til the day she died, regretted sending her there. She knew she should have said no. My uncle told me that one time he came home and found my mom hiding behind a bush, weeping and begging not to go back. My aunt told me that during these years, my mother was on "nerve pills" but didn't know what kind.
When I look at pictures of my mother as a little girl, she has a sweet smile, very bright eyes and so much light to her. By the time I was born, when she was 19, all of the light was gone. It was replaced by chaotic electrical darkness and spiraling madness.
During the time I knew her, my mother was driven by two goals.....to be loved and to be numb. Love was looked for in a series of progressively worse men. Numbness was found in liquor and drugs and drama. All of it stemming from this old woman and her actions.
So while I know that my grandparents saw giving my mother the house to be just compensation for all the years she put up with the old woman, I wonder if it really was. Now that I am an adult, and live in a house with the ghosts from my teenaged years, I know how much the past stays in the walls, even if you try to make them your own.
Mom loved that house, loved that house, and saw it as her own. But this was also the house where she was tormented, terrorized, and quite probably abused. In many ways, giving her that house was cruel.
My mother lived with her grandmother for years. Not because her parents were gone . . . in fact, they were just down the road. She lived with her grandmother because the old woman was a demanding bully who always got what she wanted.
I have been told that at some point, I'm fuzzy on the details, she informed everyone that she would never lift another finger to do anything at all for anyone, including herself. For some crazy reason, everyone allowed this.
I have no idea how this happened, especially during a time when women were basically treated like servants. I guess she must have have cult of personality spades. Anyway, when my grandmother married into the family, she was informed she would be doing things for my grandfather's parents. And by things, I mean, everything. Cooking for them, washing their clothes, driving them places. It was like having to managed two households but with no perks at all.
Oh and to be clear, the old woman wasn't nice about this. She didn't thank anyone or compliment what they did. No, she was a deeply bitter person who never saw a positive aspect to anything. My grandfather paid for her house, but it wasn't good enough. He paid for the upkeep, for the redecoration. He did the painting on it, made sure the yard was mowed. But none of it was ever done to her satisfaction.
Instead, the old woman lived in a fictional world where she knew best about all things and was burdened to be around people who lacked the skills or interest to live up to her expectations. Her life was a state of perpetual misery. She made sure everyone else's was as well.
After her husband died, she informed my grandfather that she would not sleep in the house alone. My uncle was sent to to stay with her for a while, but then he left for college. At that point, my mother was sent to stay with the woman. Keep in mind, my mother was like seven years younger than my uncle. She was just into her second decade when this madness began.
No one living knows what happened during these years. I know that my mother would only say the woman was "evil. Pure evil." I know that my grandmother, til the day she died, regretted sending her there. She knew she should have said no. My uncle told me that one time he came home and found my mom hiding behind a bush, weeping and begging not to go back. My aunt told me that during these years, my mother was on "nerve pills" but didn't know what kind.
When I look at pictures of my mother as a little girl, she has a sweet smile, very bright eyes and so much light to her. By the time I was born, when she was 19, all of the light was gone. It was replaced by chaotic electrical darkness and spiraling madness.
During the time I knew her, my mother was driven by two goals.....to be loved and to be numb. Love was looked for in a series of progressively worse men. Numbness was found in liquor and drugs and drama. All of it stemming from this old woman and her actions.
So while I know that my grandparents saw giving my mother the house to be just compensation for all the years she put up with the old woman, I wonder if it really was. Now that I am an adult, and live in a house with the ghosts from my teenaged years, I know how much the past stays in the walls, even if you try to make them your own.
Mom loved that house, loved that house, and saw it as her own. But this was also the house where she was tormented, terrorized, and quite probably abused. In many ways, giving her that house was cruel.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
An Answer to the Dreaded Question
Today, a friend posted a joke about the age old question women supposedly ask, "Does this dress make me look fat?" Oh, us women! We're so silly and vain, and evil, always trying to trap the innocent menz.
So, I addressed this in a serious manner. This was my reply:
Okay, TO BE FAIR, there are clothes that make perfectly thin people look heavier, depending on the cut of the clothing or the fabric. Some colors or patterns add the appearance of bulk as well.
I would never ask someone this question (because in my case, it IS the fat making me look fat), but I would ask them if the outfit was flattering or no. Sometimes people can't tell, especially from some angles.
And sometimes people just lack self awareness. Having been fat most of my life, I have a pretty good idea of the things to avoid.
1. Any color that will remind people of something round they can comment on (orange=look at the big pumpkin bitch! red=attack of
the killer tomatoes bitch yellow=look! It's a school bus!)
2. Anything that shows too much skin is always a bad idea. Also, anything cut to potentially show skin. No one wants to be the fat person who accidentally shows their belly or whatever. People mock.
3. Anything that promotes people viewing vast expanses. If you have a wide ass, buy shirts long enough to cover it. Everyone knows you still have a wide ass, but it seems a little less wide.
I get that men see this as a trap question. I also know that for some women, it is. However, in other cases, people just really want to know if they're going to be mocked when they leave the house.
We live in a culture that doesn't TEACH people how to work with what they have, but at the same time, we act like anyone who isn't looking up to par should be stoned to death or something. All of this adds up to one of the many reasons I don't leave the house.
So, I addressed this in a serious manner. This was my reply:
Okay, TO BE FAIR, there are clothes that make perfectly thin people look heavier, depending on the cut of the clothing or the fabric. Some colors or patterns add the appearance of bulk as well.
I would never ask someone this question (because in my case, it IS the fat making me look fat), but I would ask them if the outfit was flattering or no. Sometimes people can't tell, especially from some angles.
And sometimes people just lack self awareness. Having been fat most of my life, I have a pretty good idea of the things to avoid.
1. Any color that will remind people of something round they can comment on (orange=look at the big pumpkin bitch! red=attack of
the killer tomatoes bitch yellow=look! It's a school bus!)
2. Anything that shows too much skin is always a bad idea. Also, anything cut to potentially show skin. No one wants to be the fat person who accidentally shows their belly or whatever. People mock.
3. Anything that promotes people viewing vast expanses. If you have a wide ass, buy shirts long enough to cover it. Everyone knows you still have a wide ass, but it seems a little less wide.
I get that men see this as a trap question. I also know that for some women, it is. However, in other cases, people just really want to know if they're going to be mocked when they leave the house.
We live in a culture that doesn't TEACH people how to work with what they have, but at the same time, we act like anyone who isn't looking up to par should be stoned to death or something. All of this adds up to one of the many reasons I don't leave the house.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Friday List: Chaos Magic
My fingers are swollen today. I always hate it when they're swollen. The pain sucks, but I can handle that. It's just that when my fingers aren't swollen, they look like my mom's fingers. When I can see her fingers in mine, I miss her a little less.
This week has been rather soul draining for me. Does anyone else ever get tired of everything being so predictable? Don't people, as they say the same damned things over and over again, complain about the same things, do the same things, think the same narrow little thoughts....does it never occur to them that maybe they could switch it up, open up, maybe have a little empathy, maybe consider their words or their actions before spewing them forth? Probably not. Because, sadly, the world is predictable.
Then today, when my soul felt like it had been sucked almost dry, something happened. Someone, randomly, told me something that was completely out of the blue, unpredictable, and, well, just plain great. And with this one act, this one small alteration in my knowledge of the truth of the world, my soul was full again and I could move forward.
Of course, this is the basic principle, as I understand it, of chaos magic. The idea is that most things follow pattern. Most belief systems, most philosophies, most paradigms, have a set and orderly pattern to them. Things function in them, yes, but usually in the way that you will get predictable results. 1+1=2.
Chaos magic, however, functions on the idea that belief is a tool, not a set foundation, and that paradigm shifting can cause the most potent results.
So, tonight's list is suggestions for shifting things up just enough not to be predictable.....just to see how things change for you.
1. If your usual response to something displeasing you is to bitch, don't bitch. This is especially true if it's something that happens often and you always bitch about it.
Instead, direct your thoughts elsewhere. When MOMENT OF POTENTIAL BITCHERY happens, keep your mouth closed and think of your favorite childhood story. Or your favorite ice cream. Or something. Anything positive to keep you from complaining.
Why? Because complaining is like cat puke. It's something we feel we need to get out of our systems and when we do, like the cats, we rarely think anything about it. However, the people around us are suddenly left with this cat puke and have to clean it up. To us, it may be forgotten, but it's still soured the day for someone else.
A personal example of this is my bitching about the heat. I do it all the time. I do it on the blog, I do it at home, I do it to the cats. The thing is, the bitching is useless. I can't move out of the area, I can't stop it from being stupid hot, and can't take off any more clothing than I already have.
Instead, I'm promising myself when I start to bitch about the heat, I will spray bottle my wrists with water and think about cool summer nights when I was a kid.
2. Ask someone about their believes or customs. Now, I don't mean let them speak for three seconds before you start arguing with them, I mean ask. And really listen to what they say. Consider what they say and why they believe this way.
If you ask them about a custom or ritual, ask them to describe how this makes them feel, what comfort it brings, what hope.
And don't be defensive about it. Don't think about it in terms of how it makes you feel, just in terms of what it makes them feel. The idea here is to understand someone else more than you do already.
3. Tell someone something true and positive you feel about them. And I don't mean someone you say these things to all the time, I mean someone you rarely speak to, but notice a lot.
For instance, there is a person I know who does not view themselves as attractive. And, by society's standards, this is true. However, they have the most beautiful head of hair I've ever seen. It's just stunning and looks so soft and almost angelic. Occasionally, I tell them how pretty their hair is. Because they needs to hear it.
4. If you find yourself about to cause harm, stop. Do you insult someone on a regular basis? Do you hit? Do you scream? Do you belittle people? Try not doing it. And yes, I'm serious about this. As simplistic as that seems, just....honestly try not doing it. Stop yourself. Show the discipline you claim others lack. Don't cause harm. Trust me, you'll be shocked at the results.
5. Change your routine. Hah! Says the woman who does the same damned blog theme every Friday!
No, seriously, this one really works.
My roommate and I go shopping twice a week. The store we always go to . . . well, it's a big box store and we hate it. The vibe is always bad, it's always crowded, loud, and full of zombies and their screaming zombie babies. Last night, we decided that we would go to another store for groceries instead.
Later in the day, I told him that I felt like we hadn't done anything that morning. The stress level was so slight compared to the big box that it was like we just sat in the house and let the cats cool us with fans.
Anyway, try one of all of these things and you might find some interesting changes in your life. At the very least, things will be less predictable and that is always good.
This week has been rather soul draining for me. Does anyone else ever get tired of everything being so predictable? Don't people, as they say the same damned things over and over again, complain about the same things, do the same things, think the same narrow little thoughts....does it never occur to them that maybe they could switch it up, open up, maybe have a little empathy, maybe consider their words or their actions before spewing them forth? Probably not. Because, sadly, the world is predictable.
Then today, when my soul felt like it had been sucked almost dry, something happened. Someone, randomly, told me something that was completely out of the blue, unpredictable, and, well, just plain great. And with this one act, this one small alteration in my knowledge of the truth of the world, my soul was full again and I could move forward.
Of course, this is the basic principle, as I understand it, of chaos magic. The idea is that most things follow pattern. Most belief systems, most philosophies, most paradigms, have a set and orderly pattern to them. Things function in them, yes, but usually in the way that you will get predictable results. 1+1=2.
Chaos magic, however, functions on the idea that belief is a tool, not a set foundation, and that paradigm shifting can cause the most potent results.
So, tonight's list is suggestions for shifting things up just enough not to be predictable.....just to see how things change for you.
1. If your usual response to something displeasing you is to bitch, don't bitch. This is especially true if it's something that happens often and you always bitch about it.
Instead, direct your thoughts elsewhere. When MOMENT OF POTENTIAL BITCHERY happens, keep your mouth closed and think of your favorite childhood story. Or your favorite ice cream. Or something. Anything positive to keep you from complaining.
Why? Because complaining is like cat puke. It's something we feel we need to get out of our systems and when we do, like the cats, we rarely think anything about it. However, the people around us are suddenly left with this cat puke and have to clean it up. To us, it may be forgotten, but it's still soured the day for someone else.
A personal example of this is my bitching about the heat. I do it all the time. I do it on the blog, I do it at home, I do it to the cats. The thing is, the bitching is useless. I can't move out of the area, I can't stop it from being stupid hot, and can't take off any more clothing than I already have.
Instead, I'm promising myself when I start to bitch about the heat, I will spray bottle my wrists with water and think about cool summer nights when I was a kid.
2. Ask someone about their believes or customs. Now, I don't mean let them speak for three seconds before you start arguing with them, I mean ask. And really listen to what they say. Consider what they say and why they believe this way.
If you ask them about a custom or ritual, ask them to describe how this makes them feel, what comfort it brings, what hope.
And don't be defensive about it. Don't think about it in terms of how it makes you feel, just in terms of what it makes them feel. The idea here is to understand someone else more than you do already.
3. Tell someone something true and positive you feel about them. And I don't mean someone you say these things to all the time, I mean someone you rarely speak to, but notice a lot.
For instance, there is a person I know who does not view themselves as attractive. And, by society's standards, this is true. However, they have the most beautiful head of hair I've ever seen. It's just stunning and looks so soft and almost angelic. Occasionally, I tell them how pretty their hair is. Because they needs to hear it.
4. If you find yourself about to cause harm, stop. Do you insult someone on a regular basis? Do you hit? Do you scream? Do you belittle people? Try not doing it. And yes, I'm serious about this. As simplistic as that seems, just....honestly try not doing it. Stop yourself. Show the discipline you claim others lack. Don't cause harm. Trust me, you'll be shocked at the results.
5. Change your routine. Hah! Says the woman who does the same damned blog theme every Friday!
No, seriously, this one really works.
My roommate and I go shopping twice a week. The store we always go to . . . well, it's a big box store and we hate it. The vibe is always bad, it's always crowded, loud, and full of zombies and their screaming zombie babies. Last night, we decided that we would go to another store for groceries instead.
Later in the day, I told him that I felt like we hadn't done anything that morning. The stress level was so slight compared to the big box that it was like we just sat in the house and let the cats cool us with fans.
Anyway, try one of all of these things and you might find some interesting changes in your life. At the very least, things will be less predictable and that is always good.
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